


Ghost of the Past

by dealio



Series: Across The Stars [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, BAMF Lance (Voltron), Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Corrupt!Lance, Dark Lance (Voltron), Dark!Lance, Everyone means well, Evil!Lance, Galra Lance (Voltron), Hurt Lance (Voltron), Insecure Lance (Voltron), Lance (Voltron) Has PTSD, Lance (Voltron)-centric, Langst, M/M, Mind Control, Mind Manipulation, Physical Trauma, Psychological Trauma, Slow Burn, Torture, even if they don't always show it, he's projecting pretty hard, klance, lance is completely under assumptions, platonic everyone else
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-06
Updated: 2017-11-04
Packaged: 2018-10-28 13:38:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 49,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10832379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dealio/pseuds/dealio
Summary: Lance is rescued from Galra captivity and the brutality of the prison guard known only as The Warden, but upon his return to Team Voltron and the Castle of Lions, not everything is returned to normal. Not only does he have to deal with the aftermath of his imprisonment, which he can't remember much of, but he also has to deal with the changes that have been made in his absence. Needless to say, he's having a hard time adjusting. And to top it all off, he isn't exactly the same himself.





	1. Rescue

Lance reeled and stumbled backward, the weight of his actions hitting him full force like a punch to the gut as he took in the aftermath of what he had done. He clutched at his chest, heaving vigorously as if all the air was being squeezed out of him. The weapon in his hand slipped from his fingers and clattered to the ground.

His knees were buckling and it took every ounce of strength he had left to keep from folding in on himself and crashing to the ground.

It was so loud. Like a wild wind howling in his ears. His head whipped around, but it was too dark to see anything. He covered his ears.

Someone grabbed him and forced him to tear his gaze away. A Galra, holding him firmly by the arm, giving him a smile that made Lance’s already upset stomach churn in despair.

“Well done,” they said. The corners of their mouth stretching upwards into a sickly sneer.

The world tipped, the Galra was gone, everything faded out to black. And then he was falling.

He landed hard, sputtering as he picked himself up off the ground. It was dark, save for a single ray of dim light that shone from an unknown source above. Darkness stretched on infinitely in all other directions.

He tried to take a step towards it, but he found that his ankles were bound, as were his hands, chained to the floor and preventing him from much movement at all.

“Hello?” he called. For a moment he wasn’t sure he was going to get any kind of response. It seemed he was the only one here, wherever here was.

Then he glanced down again and noted what he wore. The prisoner’s rags, the ones the others wore. The same kind they found Shiro in back on Earth when they had rescued him. His brow furrowed in confusion. This wasn’t what the Galra normally made him wear.

Looking around hastily, he was about to try yelling again when he saw something shift in the shadows.

“Hello?” Lance said again, his voice a bit shakier this time.

A figure stepped out of the darkness, standing just inside the light. Wild and fiendish, glowing eyes stared back at him, leaving an unsettling terror deep in his gut. Lance felt a scream rise in his throat, his mouth fell open but not a sound came out as they rushed at him.

-

He awoke with a start, panting heavily and coated in a sheen of cold sweat. Wide, fearful eyes darted around, taking in as much as possible in the darkness.

Slowly his eyes adjusted, and he peered around the familiar four walls that were his cell. He almost felt a little relieved, sighing around the metal clamp in his mouth that kept his jaw spread wide so he couldn’t bite through his tongue. A not so gentle reminder of what to expect when you try and take matters into your own hands.

The nightmares felt more and more real, each one just a bit more corporeal than the last. He could even swear that he still felt the lingering warmth of a large hand on his arm and the strain of a scream dying on the tip of his tongue. He kept telling himself it was just a dream. It was just a dream. This time.

He remembered the first few weeks he had been there, when his dreams were still dreams, innocent thoughts and memories of his loved ones. He would dream about his friends, almost always about them coming for him, taking him away. Warm, smiling faces always happy to see him. Family, childhood memories and possible futures. Summertime and the sunshine. He never wanted to wake up.

He remembered the sun, but not what sunshine felt like. The feeling of warmth on his skin so alien to him here where everything was so cold. Faintly, he remembered what it smelled like. Like lazy days in a hammock, children’s laughter, fresh cut grass, warm breezes and the briny hint of the ocean. He’d give anything to see the sun again, feel the comforting heat on his warmth-starved skin.

Heck, he’d give anything to just see space again, cooped up in here with nothing but purple walls and a dim, flickering light. Getting to leave only occasionally. At least space would give him some semblance of night.

Day and night meant nothing to him in here. The minutes and hours ran together till time were of no more relevance. A foreign construct, an illusion that tricked one into thinking there was any such thing as order or purpose. Sleep was the only way he could register passing time, and that often took on the form of unconsciousness after being thrown back into his cell.

With his hands bound behind him, he managed to pull himself slowly into a sitting position, leaning up against the cold back wall. He was alone for the time being, and he allowed himself just the slightest bit of elation at that. It wasn’t often he got to wake up alone. Usually, there was always someone waiting for him, or forcing him up, depending on who it was.

The guards had no patience for his slumber, forcibly hauling him up and on his feet without the decency to give him any warning. Early on he learned to sleep lightly and listen for their footsteps that meant an abrupt awakening. At least now he could be half alert by the time they grabbed him.

Then there was him, "The Warden", which was the only name Lance knew him by. Often times when Lance woke up on his own, he would be there, staring him down with an inscrutable expression. It always made Lance feel uncomfortable, squirming and turning away, eyes scrunched in hopes that when they opened he would be gone. Needless to say, it never worked. Somehow it was worse than being manhandled by the prison guards. He definitely preferred the guards’ methods over the Warden’s.

The cell door slid open and he visibly jumped. Looming in the doorway was the ominous presence of the Galra in question. His cold, yellow eyes settled on him and Lance instinctively shivered, curling his legs inward, shrinking into himself.

“You’re awake.” he stated as if Lance needed to be reminded.

Then his lips quirked up into a vicious smile and he asked, “Sleep well?”

Lance turned away, fixing his gaze on a spot on the far wall, determined not to meet the Galra’s eyes again. Something in them made him feel sicker than usual.

Lance shifted nervously as the Warden entered and squatted down in front of him. “Are you ready?”

Lance was silent, resigned not to give him the satisfaction of a response. Not that he could speak anyway, the clamp in his mouth prevented much articulation. But he knew his message was getting across. His silence spoke for him.

“You’re in control, you know. You can stop whenever you want to. You do want to stop, don’t you?” he spoke, almost sympathetically.

Lance’s brow furrowed in frustration but he didn’t budge, nor did he make a single sound.

“If you still believe that your team is coming to save you, you are a fool.” said the Warden, with a little more bite, causing Lance to flinch.

The Galra leaned towards him, invading his personal space, grinning when Lance pressed himself against the back wall and screwed his eyes shut. “If they wanted you back, don’t you think they’d have made an attempt to come for you by now?”

The words cut deep and Lance desperately wanted to bite down on his bottom lip to keep it from quivering. He had been there awhile, longer than he imagined he would be. And not once was there any sort of rescue attempted on his behalf. None that he knew of at least. His friends wouldn’t leave him here, they were still looking for him… right?

“In fact, I’d wager…” The Galra seized Lance roughly by the jaw, forcing him to look up. His long fingers closed around his face and razor-sharp claws dug into his skin. Lance shivered again and let slip a whimper despite the strength he tried to display. “...That they’ve already replaced you.”

Lance tried to hide his pained expression. He tried not to think that it was entirely possible at this point that they’d given up on finding him, that Blue had a new pilot, a better pilot, and they didn’t need him anymore.

Not that they needed him much before. He hated to admit it but his role on team Voltron wasn’t exactly crucial. Not to any of them at least. And they made it abundantly clear.

He wasn’t as strong as Keith, or as smart as Hunk and Pidge. Shiro was the leader and Allura and Coran had essential roles of their own.

But him?

He was the guy that made the jokes. The guy that tried to defuse the situation with a little light humor only to get reprimanded and told to get serious. The guy no one thought much of. The guy with the average intelligence who was just lucky to be there. The guy without a thing.

Maybe that’s why they left him here.

The Warden laughed, sick and menacingly, pointed teeth gleaming in the dim lighting. A wicked sound that sent shivers up Lance’s spine.

“Even if they did come for you, do you think they’d even want you anymore? Do you think your friends will look at you the same?” they sneered, dragging his claws down his cheeks causing blood to fall like tears, pooling and dripping from his chin. “It’s over,  _ paladin _ . You might as well give in.”

Lance glared, determined to keep a straight face and hold his own, sending the Galra a message that he would not be giving in.

He was determined not to break. They probably expected him to, but he’d prove them wrong. He wouldn’t betray them. Even as he sit here enduring the torment of the Galra, while they very well might have already given up on him.

“If that is what you wish.” They smirked, their hand now gripping him by the throat and gave it a squeeze. Lance let out a shaky sob and the Galra chuckled. “Let’s begin.”

-

Lance stirred from unconsciousness, the sound of a commotion from down the cellblock getting his attention.

Alarms screamed around the block signaling intruders. Lance could hear sentries running past his cell door, and the sound of crunching metal getting closer and closer as they were destroyed one by one.

Something akin to hope welled up inside him, and he nearly cried out in joy when he heard the hurried chatter of the other prisoners far off down the hall as they were released from their cells.

Suddenly a figure blocked the light from the tiny window on his door.

“In here!”

It was Hunk, his best friend, and Lance smiled at the sweet sound of his voice. One he had forgotten after so long but recognized instantly upon hearing it. He never thought he’d hear that voice ever again.

Happiness surged through him, a feeling he had forgotten felt so good. Tears sprang to his eyes at the flood of emotions, cutting streaks through the grime on his face.

The door came open and as Hunk entered the room, he saw that he hadn’t come alone. Keith was there too. He almost laughed, and more joyous tears spilled from red, aching eyes.

“Hey buddy, we’re here to take you home,” Hunk spoke, his tone soft and reassuring. There was an air of caution as they kneeled down beside him.

“Lance… can you hear me?” Keith asked, gently pulling out the contraption in his mouth, eyeing it with disdain and then tossing it aside.

Lance eased his jaw shut, licked his chapped lips, and nodded slowly.

He could feel both of their eyes on him, surveying the damage, hard to gauge around the tattered rags the Galra put him in, half falling off him from his most recent encounter with the Warden.

A voice came over their comms, loud enough for Lance to hear from their helmets. “Cellblock clear, I’m leaving with the prisoners. Have you found him yet?”

Lance smiled again, “P-Pidge.” he croaked.

“Yeah, buddy, that was Pidge.” Hunk told him, then leaned back and spoke through the comms. “Affirmative, we got him. ETA at the rendezvous point about 10 minutes. Are you ready, Shiro?”

“Roger that, ready for evac,” Shiro said.

Keith turned just as another unit of sentries surrounded the door, then stood and readied his weapon.

“Get him up and out, I’ve got these guys,” he said. Hunk nodded and began working on Lance’s bindings.

Lance could hear Keith hacking and slashing away at the Galra sentries while Hunk moved behind him and fiddled with the shackles on his wrists.

It was almost surreal, knowing they were here for him, knowing he would be leaving with them and he’d never see the inside of this dingy prison cell ever again.

Perhaps no one would have to occupy it again after him. He could only hope.

The bindings came free and before he knew it, Hunk was scooping him up in his arms. Lance cried out, the sudden shifting of his aching body setting his nerves on fire and causing every injury and laceration to throb in pain.

He glanced down to where his body was pressed up against Hunk’s, blood smeared on the white chest plate of his armor.

“I’m sorry, Buddy. We’re leaving now. Just hang on, okay?” Hunk tried his best to sound calm, but Lance could detect the faintest bit of worry on the edge of his voice. He only nodded and set his jaw in an attempt to brace for the pain.

-

Heavy eyes fluttered open as he heard a growl in the back of his mind, nudging him ever so gently on the edge of his consciousness.

_ Human? The human has returned! _

A wave of alleviation and euphoria washed over him through his connection to the Blue Lion, and even here and in Black Lion’s hangar, he could hear her triumphant roar resound around the castle.

Lance pushed himself up, wanting nothing more than to get to her, knowing that the Blue Lion wanted desperately to see him too. But a firm hand on his shoulder gently coaxed him back down, and he looked up to see Shiro standing over him.

“Easy there, kiddo. You need to get to a pod before anything else. Blue can wait.” he said with a tender smile.

“Shiro…” Lance murmured, gazing up lazily at the Black Paladin. They were moving, Lance laying on some kind of gurney with Shiro walking briskly beside him. He could feel the presence of Hunk and Keith on the other side, quietly marching him through the hangars and heading to the pod room.

“I’m here,” Shiro said softly.

“H-Hey, look…” Lance reached a shaky hand up to his own face, awkwardly tracing his fingers along a scar that ran perpendicular across his lips on the right side, smearing fresh blood over the skin of his cheek, lips, and chin. He then lifted his hand and pointed to the scar on Shiro’s nose, smiling as wide as he could around cracked and bleeding lips. “Scar bros.” he rasped.

Shiro smiled again, trying his best to keep his expression from looking so grieved, but his heart ached for the boy, knowing full well what the Galra were capable of. He could only imagine how Lance came to bear the gouges marring his face.

“Yeah, kiddo,” Shiro said, gripping Lance’s weak hand in his. “Scar bros.”

Shiro felt a little relieved when he couldn’t fit in the elevator with other two, he didn’t know how long he could have kept up the cheery facade. And once the doors slide closed and the elevator was on it’s way up to the med bay, his smile turned downwards, and he pinched the bridge of his nose in a state of dismay.

Even though their mission had been successful, and Lance had been delivered from the atrocity of the Galra, Shiro couldn’t help but feel like he had still failed.

-

As it turned out, the scars on their faces weren’t the only similarities that Lance and the Black Paladin now shared. Keith and Hunk had been assigned to fitting Lance into his cryosuit while Coran prepped the pod and the rest of the team worked on putting distance between them and the Galra ship. Once they managed to peel the rags off him they had been shocked to discover two Galran metal prosthetic legs that attached to his own at the mid thigh.

Hunk’s breath hitched sharply and he nearly knocked over a tray of Altean medical instruments in the process of reeling. Keith gawked, composed, but still shaken. They didn’t know what they expected, but it wasn’t this.

Keith briefly wondered what Lance had to go through to acquire them, and if he would even want to talk about it. Shiro hardly spoke about his time with the Galra. And even though he said he had a hard time remembering what had happened to him, Keith suspected he recalled a lot more now than he let on.

Lance’s body was cleaned and dressed and propped into the healing chamber like a statue on display. Coran had explained that while his body was weak and his wounds were severe, overall he was reasonably healthy, and he should be ready to come out in less than a week.

It was surprising. Nobody expected Lance to come back in such good health, despite the obvious signs of torture and open lesions. Which, upon closer examination, looked to be meticulously inflicted. None of them was life threatening. It appeared that the Galra had taken remarkably good care of him during his captivity.

A schedule was set, Coran insisting that it would be a day or two before anyone really needed to stand watch, and everyone shuffled off to bed. Everyone except Hunk and Keith.

For a few minutes, neither boy spoke, basking in the silence and the soft blue hue of the pod that lit the now darkened room. The soft whir of the machine that displayed his vitals became a calming resonance that lulled them into a state of lethargy. Neither of them could glean if it was the tiredness of a long day and an arduous mission, or if it was the peace of mind that came with knowing Lance was here and safe, that suddenly had both of them in a state of contented exhaustion. They only knew that they would not be leaving, despite their weariness, anytime soon.

After a long stretch of silence, Hunk finally turned to Keith, knowing exactly what was on the other boy's mind. “It wasn’t your fault, you know,” he reassured.

It seemed to have had the opposite effect, sending Keith into a tirade of emotion, pitting blame against himself. Not what Hunk wanted at all, but for now he would let the Red Paladin rant and release some apparent pent-up criticism.

“I shouldn’t have left him there, I shouldn’t have run ahead. He told me not to, Hunk, and I didn’t listen. I thought I knew what I was doing, I thought he would be… I didn’t think… but I… I… “ he trailed off, peering up at the boy in the glass with a mixture of guilt and condemnation.

“I let this happen. I let him be taken and…” Keith couldn’t even bring himself to continue.

“Listen, Keith,” Hunk began. “A lot went wrong that day. The odds were stacked against us from the start and nothing, and I mean nothing, went according to plan. There’s no one single person to blame here and besides,” he gestured to the healing pod, “We have him back, safe and sound.”

“Safe…” Keith hummed, crossing his arms pointedly. “Maybe. But sound? That’s yet to be determined.”

Hunk was quiet, and his gaze fell the floor where he reflected on the weight of Keith’s words. He wasn’t exactly wrong. Lance might be safe here in the castle now, but the damage had been done. All they could do was hope that Lance was resilient enough to bounce back to his old self, given plenty of time to recover fully once he was well physically. But not even Shiro was strong enough to rebound fully after his experience, not even after all this time.

It was wasn’t unreasonable to conclude that while Lance’s physical hardships had come to an end, he wasn’t quite out of the water yet.

-

Lance heard the  _ fwoosh _ of the glass barrier and felt himself toppling out of the healing pod. Keith moved forward to catch him, but Hunk beat him to it, hoisting Lance off the ground into a bone crushing hug.

“Lance!” Hunk bellowed.

Lance tore his arms out of the death grip Hunk had on him and hugged him back with a soft chuckle. “It’s good to see you too, buddy.”

“Lance!” Pidge shrieked from the doorway, then she was barreling into the two boys, desperately trying to wrap her tiny arms around both of them, nearly sending them all into a pile on the floor.

Hunk finally let go of Lance as Coran, Allura and Shiro entered the room, their moods visibly lifted when they saw that he was finally out of cryo.

Coran busied himself with rechecking Lance’s vitals, sticking little strange bits of monitoring equipment all over him as he sat on an examination table. The others crowded around and gently fretted over him. Lance seemed to be right back to his regular self, smitten with all the attention he had garnered. Almost like nothing had ever happened.

“Okay, okay, guys I can only answer one at a time,” Lance said with a smile, looking around at the gaggle that had assembled around him.

“How are you feeling?” Allura asked softly, her hands clasped together in a concerned manner, an affectionate smile on her face.

Lance’s brows furrowed together in concentration for a moment, as if delving within himself to gauge exactly how he felt. “Honestly? I feel great,” he answered frankly.

“Do you… remember anything?” Shiro probed lightly.

“I… remember being there… I know… “ Lance smoothed a hand over his shoulder, fingers finding and running along the scars he knew where present under the cryosuit. “I know… something… happened. I just can’t remember… a lot.”

Shiro frowned but didn’t push it. Keith could tell that he was still worrisome, and left dissatisfied with Lance’s answer. He wondered if Lance knew about his legs or not, or if anyone would bring them up. He got his answer when Hunk took a tentative step forward.

“Lance,” Hunk’s voice cracked. “Your legs… they… “

Lance’s hands instinctively went to the tops of his thighs, rubbing the seam between alien metal and human skin. For a moment his eyes widened, and Keith was almost certain he was going to go into a panic. But then Lance swallowed, and smiled, and glanced back up at Hunk, who hadn’t missed the slight surprise on Lance’s face either.

“Well, at least you were able to save the most important parts, right?” he said, bringing his thumb and forefinger to his chin and grinning.

That earned him a light punch in the arm by Pidge, who had her glasses shoved up her forehead so she could rub her watering eyes. “That’s not funny, Lance.” she snorted.

As soon as Coran had confirmed his vitals were normal and he was the picture of health, Lance hopped down off the examination table, intent to make his way down to the hangars and see his girl.

“Whoa there, you might not wanna exert yourself too much too soon. There’s a chance I didn’t account for disequilibrium. Wouldn’t want you taking a tumble into the reactor core.” Coran warned.

“Coran, I’m fine. I feel great. Better than great actually.” he said flexing both arms, earning him an eye roll from half the room. “And besides, I’m not going to the reactor core, I’m going to see Blue.”

A pregnant silence fell over the room, and this time it was Lance’s turn to look worried. Everyone looked away, avoiding his gaze like the plague.

“Lance… there’s... something we need to talk about.” Allura spoke, her fingers fiddling with the hem of her bodice.

Lance gave a nervous chuckle. “Can’t it wait? Blue was really worried, I could feel her when I got here, and I really need to see her.” he insisted, attempting to push his way through the small crowd.

“Lance,” Keith stepped forward, drawing Lance’s addled gaze. “Do you know how long you’ve been gone?”

Lance’s face once again scrunched in thought. “Well... Time was… really wonky in there. I don’t know for sure.”

“Fourteen point six two nine cycles.” Coran chirped, earning him some sidelong glances. “Er uh… give or take.”

“Ssssoooo…” Lance said, slowly turning his focus back to Keith.

“That’s about six months in Earth time.” Pidge clarified.

Lance deadpanned. He hadn’t thought it’d had been that long, but he also couldn’t exactly remember all of it. There certainly were chunks, if not giant blocks, of time missing from his memory. It wasn’t entirely impossible that he had spent such a substantial amount of time there, whether he wanted to believe it or not was another story entirely.

Come to think of it now, everyone did look a bit different. Pidge, Keith, and Hunk’s hair were longer if just a few inches. Coran’s crows feet were more apparent, showing his age. Only Shiro and Allura looked to have remained somewhat the same, though they looked very tired. His own hair had grown as well, falling into his eyes, which he needed cut right away. Just small differences he hadn’t caught onto yet.

Someone cleared their throat and all heads swiveled to the doorway. There stood an alien Lance didn’t recognize.

Their skin was blue and speckled with yellow spots. Long fleshy tendrils resembling hair cascaded from their head and over their shoulders, and they gazed at him with large purple eyes set against black sclera. A semi-translucent webbing interlocked their slender fingers and something akin to fins protruded from their forearms.

Lance hadn’t even seen this species of alien before, not that he remembered anyway.

“We’re approaching the Boon Tai system, is… is this a bad time?” the alien asked.

“No, no come in,” Allura answered, ushering the unfamiliar alien inside and towards the group huddled around the far healing pod.

“Lance this is Snimo, Snimo this is Lance,” Allura said as Snimo came to stand in front of him.

Lance tried to put on a friendly face, but everyone was starting to make him feel nervous with their uncertain expressions and the way they avoided his gaze, when before he had their fullest attentions.

He turned back to the alien, Snimo, and extended his hand cautiously. “Hi, I’m La-  _ wha _ ?”

Snimo suddenly reached behind his head and grabbed the nape of his neck, pulling him forward till their foreheads collided with a bonk. Lance pulled away and rubbed at the spot where their heads had connected. Not that it hurt, Snimo’s forehead was surprisingly tender. It just took Lance a little off guard at such a… affectionate greeting.

“Lance! It is a pleasure to finally meet you!” Snimo exclaimed, his eyes sparkling in the soft, blue light still emanating from the now empty healing pod.

“Uh… nice to meet you too.” Lance muttered.

“Lance,” Allura began, looking a bit sheepish. “As you now know, you’ve been away for some time. During that time we… Snimo has been… uhh.” she trailed off, unsure of how to finish.

“What Allura means is we needed to be able to… form Voltron… so… “ Shiro wasn’t faring any better.

“We needed someone to pilot the Blue Lion while you were gone,” Keith interjected, brash as always.

Lance froze. A chill ran through him, and something heavy settled uneasily in his stomach. He reached over and grasped the edge of the exam table to steady himself.

“-ance? Lan-?”

Their voices sounded far away, coming and going with the pounding of his heart. A numbness began in his toes, despite the inorganic composition, and crept up his legs, past his knees, and he felt them folding in on themselves and taking him to ground with them.

“-ance!”

He blacked out just as he saw hands reaching out to him, grabbing at him, trying to hold him up upright.


	2. Sleepless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick shoutout to @littlepennycandy for being the best beta I could ever ask for

Lance didn’t go see the Blue Lion that day. Or the day after. Despite her incessant probing, and her increased aura of concern, he actively ignored her. 

It was too much to bear, knowing she no longer belonged to him, or he to her. Even feeling her presence pressing against his consciousness, begging for his attention, made him feel intrusive; as if he had tapped into something he knew he wasn’t supposed to see, or in this case, feel. 

So why did he retain a connection to her if he no longer needed to?

Allura tried to explain it as best she could. 

In the event of a paladin becoming unfit or unable to fly for any reason, the lions are able to be passed to those whose quintessence are nearly similar. But bonds are strong, and are rarely, if ever, cut off completely. Such as Zarkon’s bond to the Black Lion, and Allura’s limited bond with all the lions.

Lance didn’t quite understand it, but he supposed he was never actually meant to. The lions were magical, sentient, space entities of their own and understanding them was a concept far beyond humans. Even Allura couldn’t give him a clear answer as to why, only that it was.

Lance wished Blue would make an exception. It would be easier to part with her that way.

In time, Blue respectfully receded from his thoughts, backing down and giving him the space he needed. She wasn’t gone for good, he knew that. But it was a hell of a lot easier for him to watch her fly away with the rest of the team, a new pilot at her helm, without her constant persistence pressing at the back of his mind. 

He knew she was only concerned for him, and he felt awful for shutting her out, but it seemed like the only way he could effectively move on.

-

In the weeks that followed, Lance busied himself in the day-to-day operations of the castle. No longer able to fly, he was determined to keep functioning as a useful part of the team, however that may be. From helping Hunk cook and tinker in the lab, to scheduled maintenance and universal navigation with Coran, Lance did anything he could to feel like he had something left to offer. 

Even though his team mates assured him he was still a valued member of the team, Lance's destructive insecurities were far more powerful. 

And it didn’t help that his replacement, Snimo, seemed to be everything the team lacked when Lance was the Blue Paladin. 

Not only was Snimo a great pilot, having far less criticisms thrown his way for his flying than Lance imagined possible for himself, but everyone seemed to absolutely adore him as well. The new Blue Paladin got along with everyone, including Keith. Effortlessly he might add. And the longer he observed them, the more he thought that his capture by the Galra had been a blessing in disguise. Lance had only been a place marker, dead weight, holding them back. At least now they had gotten the pilot they always needed in order to make Voltron great. 

In the meantime, he found solace in Pidge and Hunk, his friends from before being flung into the outer reaches of space, and Coran on occasion. At any given time, minus night hours when everyone was in bed, you’d likely find him with one or more of them.

Lance wasn’t much for science and engineering, knowing only the basics to get him by, but he was a good friend if nothing else. He helped wherever he was needed, as much as he could and always to the fullest extent of his abilities.

But without the Blue Lion, and his place on the team as the Blue Paladin, he noticed that his connection to his friends was slowly degrading. 

The more missions they went on without him, and the more he continued to search for a role for himself within the team (and failing), the more disconnected from everyone he felt. Even Hunk and Coran, who were nothing but pleasant with him at any given time, made him feel unworthy. He had truly become the seventh wheel he feared he always was.

Lance was very much still there; very much still tangibly there. But his absence from the team and their missions and exercises put a discernible rift between them. He no longer connected to them, no longer related with them, and without that, he really was nothing to them. 

He had begun to wonder why they had even rescued him in the first place. 

Empathy? Pity? Obligation? The longer Lance thought about it the less he thought it was anything other than their selfish need to absolve themselves of any stain on their moral ledger. 

The fact that he had once been a Paladin of Voltron was likely the only reason he hadn’t rotted away in that Galra prison.

And now he was alone in his plight.

He almost regretted shutting Blue out so completely, knowing that whether or not he was of any worth to the others, Blue would always find him worthy of her presence. 

But that too, he figured, was for the greater good.

And then, on top of everything else, on top of the insecurity and mockery and the replacement that left him disillusioned in himself, and in spite of his confidence that after all this time his captivity hadn't taken too great a toll on him, the nightmares began.

-

Every night was the same.  Surrounded by darkness, with only a small ray of light illuminating a dark floor. He was chained and dressed in Galra prison rags. And while there was no discernible reason for him to be afraid, the overwhelming feeling of terror was enough to wake him and leave him in a cold sweat nearly every night.

And they only got worse the more often he had them. Sometimes he could even see wild, purple eyes staring at him from beyond the light, hiding in the darkness. But as soon as they made any move to draw near, Lance would jolt up in bed, panting, heart racing, shaking like a leaf in a storm.

Too shaken from the nightmares and a strange new feeling of restlessness to go back to sleep, Lance found himself wandering the castle in the wee hours of what was considered morning looking for ways to occupy his time.

He  _ would  _ have gone to the training deck to discharge some of his pent up energy on the drones till he was too tired to see straight, but he felt that was more of a Keith thing, and opted out of that. 

Quiznack forbid he run the risk of getting caught and accused of trying to mimic Keith in any way. 

For awhile he considered finding a remote place to run laps around the halls, maybe push his new legs to the limit and see what they could do, until he remembered that sometime during his absence Hunk and Pidge said they had designed and built a gym full of equipment where Shiro would often weight train. Especially with all the mishaps with training simulations, some people didn’t want to take the risk just to stay in shape. Understandably.

He knew exactly where it was. And the upside to being overlooked, and on the outside looking in, was the innate ability to memorize routines in people. Shiro, being the most routine of all, and the most common user of the room, was easy enough to predict. 

So without fear of being caught, Lance would wait till either Shiro wasn’t there, or the nightmares roused him enough to slip off to the gym and work his antsy muscles to exhaustion while everyone else slept.

Lance was able to keep up his charade for several weeks. And no one suspected a thing. Not that they paid close attention to him either way, unless he was fucking up, which made it that much easier to slip under the radar. 

Lance imagined if they _ had _ been more perceptive they might have noticed the dark circles under his eyes or the way he dragged his feet when he walked or even his diminishing presence among the team and even his circle of closer friends. But that was neither here nor there.

He almost wished somebody would stop him and ask if he was alright, observe that he wasn’t looking or acting himself and offer to talk. But, in truth, that would do more harm than good at this point. Then someone, most likely Keith, would accuse him of putting on a pity party for himself and turn everything around on him. It was best just to keep up the facade that everything would be fine. But he wondered how long he could manage even that.

Most of the team had been easy to fool, too preoccupied with the missions, or individual projects,  _ or Snimo _ . Even Coran, good natured and observant as he may be, was blissfully unaware of Lance’s deteriorating condition. Hunk was the same, although the situation was another story.

They had always been close, and Lance couldn’t exactly withdraw from him completely, like he managed to do with the others, without looking somewhat suspicious. But if there was one thing that Lance was good at, it was acting. And being so close to Hunk all those years allowed him to perfect his art to the point where not even he, his best and closest friend, knew whether he was lying or not. 

Truly, there were more pressing matters to demand the team’s attention than one little boy’s hurt feelings or sleepless nights. There was a war going on for control of the universe, and the sooner Lance accepted that in the bigger picture his problems didn’t matter, the better. For himself and for everyone else.

-

It was one of those nights again and Lance found himself in the gym, on the floor doing push ups, wearing earbud-like devices that Hunk had built for him. They were currently playing some strange Altean music that had been stored on one of the computers. 

The castle was deathly quiet in the middle of the night. Only the soft humming of the dim night lighting and machinery behind the walls broke the lucid silence. 

He suddenly got the feeling he was being watched and glanced up to be greeted with eight tiny eyes, all staring up at him curiously. 

His arms gave out and he fell to the mat with a huff, not expecting anyone to have caught him there. But then again, if anyone were to find him first, he wasn’t surprised it was the space mice. 

Lance pulled the earbuds out as he pushed himself up and sat cross-legged on the floor, “What are you guys doing here? Shouldn’t you be with Allura, sleeping?” 

The littlest blue mouse gave him a knowing smirk, as if saying ‘I could ask you the same.’

Lance grimaced, “I’m just not tired, okay?”

The mice all stood and crossed their little arms, glaring at him expectantly. 

“Okay, so this isn’t exactly my first night here, big deal.” Lance argued while opening one of those Altean juice pouches. 

The little pink one rolled its eyes, the taller blue one tapped its foot, the littlest one shook its head and the big one crossed its arms again. They clearly knew something was up, and they expected full details.

Lance sighed, “You promise not to tell Allura?” 

The mice jumped into a huddle and whispered amongst themselves. And even though all Lance could hear were hushed squeaks, he leaned forward anyway, trying to listen in. 

When they broke their little huddle he straightened up quickly, waiting for their response and trying not to look like he was obviously eavesdropping.

The little blue one stepped forward and motioned with it’s paw, as if asking for some sort of payment.

“What?” Lance hissed. “You’re blackmailing me?”

All their little paws shot out expectantly and Lance sighed again, conceding victory to the tiny swindlers.

“Fine. How about… I’ll convince Coran to let you pilot the ship for an hour.” he suggested.

They huddled again, only briefly this time, then came apart and shook their heads.

Lance frowned, “Okay… what if I get Pidge and Hunk to build you all your own little individual suits of battle armor?” he tried again.

They again conferred, and again came to the conclusion that that wasn’t what they wanted.

Lance huffed and rubbed his neck, “Hmm…. okay…. What if… I get Hunk to cook a feast just for you? The best food in the universe and plenty of leftovers.” he said, selling it with the waggle of his eyebrows.

The space mice glanced at each other, and they all seemed to be thinking the same thing as their little eyes twinkled. Then they all turned back to Lance and nodded, confirming this was adequate bribery for their silence.

Lance smiled, “Thanks guys. I promise it’ll be the best you’ve eaten. I’ll just tell Hunk you’ve been helping me out loads and he’ll be glad to pay you back.”

The little pink mouse made a motion with its paws as if telling him to get on with his explanation, so without further ado Lance spilled the pain in his heart to the tiny space mice, surprising even himself with how easy it was to do. 

Maybe it was the fact that they had caught him, and he felt compelled to explain, or the fact that they couldn’t talk back to him, only listen. Or maybe he was just so willing and ready to spill his guts that anyone who gave him an ear would get an earful. 

Regardless of why, at the end of his long descant, he couldn’t help feeling immensely better. Not entirely, but relieved to get something off his chest to say the very least. 

And, true to his word, they did eventually get their feast from Hunk, which took a little finagling on Lance’s part to pull off.

It wasn’t like Hunk lived in the kitchen ready to receive food requests. More often than not he was in the lab with Pidge, running data, numbers, blueprinting and going over schematics. Good food was only just a small part of Hunk’s great abilities. 

However, when faced with Lance’s request, Hunk was wary to cook for the mice. Understandably so. It’s not like regular mice got their own banquets from master chefs back on Earth very often, if at all.

“Come on Hunk, these aren’t just any space mice. They’re  _ the _ space mice. Allura’s mice. They helped Pidge take back the castle from Sendak, they put on a show for Allura so she wouldn’t be bored while we all went to the mall. And they’ve been helping me out a lot lately. They deserve it.” Lance entreated.

“Hmm, I guess you’re right. What did they help you with?” Hunk asked idly.

“Uhh…” Lance stalled, trying to think of something, anything that would sound remotely believable but yet not self-incriminating. “Uh… sl-sleeping.” 

_ … What?? _

_ I can play it off, watch me. _

“Oh, you having trouble sleeping?” Hunk asked.

“Yeah, they’ve been keeping me company, helping me get to sleep, you know.” he answered.

“I guess that explains why Allura said they don’t sleep with her as much anymore.” Hunk said, sitting back and wiping his brow.

“Yeah, they’re uh.. With me. In my room.” Lance said, desperate to end the topic. 

“Alright, well, you make a good point. And I’ll do it. But if you ever need me you know where to find me, alright? My door is always open for you, man. If you wanna talk, or anything. Okay?” Hunk offered with a soft smile.

“Yeah, no totally, absolutely. Thanks, Hunk. I better get back to… to… Coran. He needs me, so.. See ya!” Lance blurted, then turned and ran from the lab before Hunk could get another word in.

And so he and the mice fell into their own sort of routine around each other. By day they’d act indifferent, like nothing was going on, but by night, when Lance felt the need to strain his muscles, they’d meet him in the gym and provide him hours of company and conversation. 

-

Even though Lance was withdrawing more and more from his fellow teammates, he never allowed himself to neglect his assigned duties. Regardless of how they felt about him, or he felt about himself, it was the only thread keeping him from feeling like an absolute burden. So he did his duties, with minimal complaining, and relished in the peace of knowing that he could be alone, and also, somewhat, useful.

Lance was on the bridge, alone, tinkering with the wires under the panel below the console, trying to reset the navi computer. All the castle systems had been damaged in the last mission when the castle had been struck by strange lightning on a planet where it stormed near constantly. 

They had only a window of a few hours to get their ship in under the dense clouds and damaging lightning, but a few proverbial wrenches in their plan had pushed their departure time back and the ship had suffered damage from the raging storms on their way out. 

The rest of the systems had been repaired and reset. Now all but the navigation computer were up and running, and seeing as most everyone else had an urgent mission to attend to, Lance was left by himself to get the system back online before they got back.

Or so he thought.

“Lance?” came a smooth voice he had come to loathe. Even more than Keith’s abrasive bark.

Lance turned around at the sound of his name, scowling at the intruder, “Oh, it’s you.” 

Snimo hesitated in the doorway a moment, then entered and came to stand just a few feet away. Lance tried his best to ignore the intrusion and bury himself back in his work, the task was difficult enough without Snimo getting on his nerves. 

“I was wondering if you might need some assistance.” Snimo said softly. 

Lance jerked backwards and smacked his head against the top of the console, causing Snimo to startle as well. Lance hissed and dropped his tools to rub at the new lump on the back of his head, then turned and fixed the alien with a frown.

“I don’t need your help. I’ve got this under control.” he snapped. 

Snimo was quiet as Lance, once again, returned to his work. But his presence was enough to grate against his nerves and no matter how hard Lance tried to ignore it, every fidget out of the corner of his eye was sending him over the edge of his tolerance. Which, for Snimo, wasn’t that broad to begin with. 

He irritably rubbed at his neck, which was starting to get tender to the touch. Maybe he had slept wrong. 

Slept wrong. Funny. 

He certainly didn’t sleep right these days. 

Perhaps it was the sleep deprivation and over-exertion catching up to him.

Another movement in his peripheral vision finally snapped his last nerve and he whirled back on the alien, “Shouldn’t you be out there with the rest of them!?”

Snimo’s breath hitched instinctively at Lance’s outburst, and Lance didn’t miss the way he jumped. It almost made him sorry. 

Snimo composed himself and answered, “Actually, no. The planet they are going to is made entirely out of molten rock. Blue wouldn’t last long down there.” 

Lance rolled his eyes at Snimo’s casual use of his nickname for the Blue Lion.  _ His _ nickname. The one  _ he _ gave to Blue. When Blue was  _ his _ Lion.

Snimo continued, “Actually Pidge is here too. Green wouldn’t be much help either.” 

“Good, then go tell  _ her _ to come help me, or better yet, go help  _ her _ .” Lance barked as he tried, yet again, to pick up where he left off.

“Pidge is busy going through the data we retrieved from the Galra battleship on the last mission. She’s looking for her kin. She didn’t even say a word to me when I spoke to her…  I…” Snimo shifted his weight from one foot to the other nervously, dipping his head, “I understand… there is… a certain level of animosity between us… after what happened.” he said, trying to pick his words carefully.

Lance made a  _ tsk _ noise but otherwise didn’t respond.

“I just want you to know… that I’m very sorry about what happened. I know how you must think of me, and I was just kind of hoping to clear things up with you. I don’t foster any ill will towards you. And I was kind of hoping, given the circumstances, I think we could be friends.” he said.

Lance dropped the tool he was using, causing it to clatter to the floor, echoing around the bridge of the ship like a shrill shriek. He once again fixed Snimo with a pointed glare.

Lance was furious. 

How dare he? 

How dare he have the audacity to come in here and offer his unwanted help and pity!?

How dare he have the nerve to tell him to his face that he didn’t resent him!?

How dare he have the sheer audacity to suggest they could ever be on good terms!?

And how dare he be so genuinely nice about it!?

Lance was so furious he was practically boiling. He wanted to shout and unload on Snimo, he wanted to call him out on everything and make him feel as little as everyone else made him feel. 

But in the manner that Snimo so genuinely came to him, Lance found that he couldn’t bring himself to say anything. It wouldn’t be right, even Lance knew that, angry or not.

So instead, he pulled himself from under the console, stood, and stormed out of the bridge in a huff. Red-faced and seething. Leaving behind the, now panic-stricken, blue and yellow alien.

-

“So then he says: I think we could be friends. Or something like that. Can you believe that guy?” Lance said while he jogged on the treadmill. 

The little space mice lounged on the weight bench just next to him, listening to him tell them about his encounter with the new Blue Paladin while they snacked on grapes, or some alien equivalent, courtesy of Lance. 

The littlest one’s eyes grew big as it acted out Snimo’s mannerisms exaggeratedly. Innocent, soft spoken, and a bit naive. 

Lance chuckled, “Yeah. something like that.”

Then the tall blue one lightly shoved the smaller one, and began to berate them, most likely telling them not to be so mean about it. It would have turned into a full blown argument if Lance hadn’t interviewed.

“Whoa whoa, cool it, guys. We were just joking. Besides… he’s really not that bad. I don’t know. Like I get it, I was gone and they had to form Voltron. But at the same time… Well, you know, at the same time I just feel… lost. You know?” Lance mused.

The mice all nodded their understanding. 

Lance sighed, “I’m sure we could have been friends… if things were different.” then he laughed, “You guys probably think I’m nuts, don’t you?”

“I certainly do,” came a voice Lance wasn’t prepared for. He nearly tripped over his own feet as he whipped his head around to see Keith standing in the doorway giving him a curious look.

“Keith, what are you doing here?” Lance said as he stopped the treadmill. 

“I could ask you the same. Although I wasn’t expecting you to be here talking to yourself.” Keith answered, crossing his arms.

“No, I was talking to-” Lance looked over at the weight bench, where the mice were conveniently missing. His eyes narrowed, “Rats.”

“Rats. Right,” Keith said. “So, what are you doing, anyway?”

Lance glared at Keith, who leaned nonchalantly in the doorway, as he crossed the room to the pull-up bar. He obviously wasn’t going to leave, so Lance obviously wasn’t going to let him drive him out. Besides, he still had to work his arms. They were starting to tingle with neglect.

“What does it look like, Keith?” Lance huffed through his first chin up.

“Since when do you work out?” Keith taunted.

“Since when do you stalk people?” Lance countered. 

“I’m not stalking. I was up, I saw the light was on, and I came to investigate.” Keith replied. 

“Well, good for you, mystery solved. I guess you can rest easy now knowing there aren’t any unsanctioned Galra using the gym.” Lance retorted.

“That’s… that’s not what I meant, Lance. You’ve been acting weird lately.” Keith said, stepping further into the room.

“Yeah? How so?” Lance asked, not really caring to hear the answer, but at the same time cursing himself that someone noticed. Just his luck that that someone had to be Keith of all people.

“Well, I- we don’t really see you much anymore.” Keith said.

“I try to stay out of the way.” Lance answered bluntly.

Keith frowned, “Lance, I wasn’t… nevermind. Anyway, I heard you talked to Snimo. And you stormed off.”

“Actually he talked to me, so...” Lance stated, switching up his grip on the bar.

Keith watched Lance, wondering what had gotten into the former Blue Paladin lately. Granted, he hadn’t noticed anything was amiss until Snimo brought up the conversation (albeit one-sided) they had earlier that day. 

There was no reason to. Lance was no longer a paladin, therefore he didn’t go out on missions with them anymore. So Keith just assumed that the silence that came with the absence of the former paladin was attributed to the lack of him on said missions. He hadn’t even realized the castle itself had fallen into a lull of stillness. 

That was until Snimo went to Keith, worried he had upset Lance greatly, and Keith started to really think about it. 

It happened so gradually, he surmised, that he wasn’t surprised that no one noticed until now. The unusual quiet, the missed dinners, the dark circles under his eyes. 

The only other time the castle had been so quiet was when Lance had been gone, captured by the Galra. But that had been so sudden that his absence from the team had been profound, and the quiet in the castle had been deeply unnerving. 

There was something wrong, something going on with this boy, and he was obviously going to great lengths to hide it. Or, at least, more lengths than he would have normally, as he was never one to keep anything to himself before.

Keith watched as he pulled himself up and down by the bar, arm muscles flexing, visible now that all he wore was a loose tank top. Legs crossed at the ankles and slightly curled, his metal calves protruding out from under a pair of shorts. 

This Lance was very different, and not just physically. He imagined it was the result of his time with the Galra. Even though Lance had come back and appeared as pleasant and bubbly as ever, his demeanor was drastically different now. 

He wondered if he remembered any of it. Remembered, and never told anyone. The weight of his trauma alone was enough to take a toll on anyone. It was something he and Shiro shared, and something Keith would never truly understand. 

But Shiro had his team. Shiro knew he could confide in any one of them, even though he rarely did. But that didn’t mean that they didn’t offer him some comfort just by being there.

Lance, on the other hand, had isolated himself. Something Keith wasn’t sure he understood. Why would Lance, loud and boisterous, resign himself to suffer in silence? He had his friends, Pidge and Hunk, and then there was Coran, Shiro and Allura. And even though they didn’t exactly see eye to eye, they were teammates, and Keith, contrary to popular belief, didn’t hate him. 

In fact… you might say… he kinda liked him.

Though he had been ignoring and avoiding his feelings up until now, he didn’t know if he could do it any longer. He didn’t know if he could see Lance like this, now that he knew something was wrong.

And if anything, he owed it to Lance to help him. After all, he blamed himself for getting him captured in the first place, and he felt terrible that he hadn’t paid more attention, and let Lance get to this point. 

But now that he knew, he was determined to help. The only way he knew how of course.

“Spar with me,” Keith said.

 


	3. Distortion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith challenges Lance to a friendly sparring match but something is off about Lance.

Lance startled, his fingers slipped off the bar and he fell, landing on his back with a wheeze. 

“W-What?” he said, trying to catch his breath as he sat up.

“You heard me,” Keith said, offering Lance a hand up, “Spar with me.” 

He frowned up at Keith apprehensively. Keith never wanted to spar with him. Even before, Keith treated it like a chore and not actual training. Like Lance wasn’t good enough for his time. He remembered getting his ass handed to him on multiple occasions, and Keith walking off without a second glance, like he couldn’t care less, like he just wasn’t worth it.

But now? It didn’t seem to make sense, and he couldn’t decide if Keith was being genuine or if it was some sort of prank. He wouldn’t put that kind of thing past himself in the past, but Keith was ever the serious one. The no-nonsense defender of the universe and such. It would be out of character. But, then again, him even asking Lance to spar was very out of character for the Red Paladin.

Lance eyed Keith’s outstretched hand dubiously, but took it regardless and let him haul him to his feet.

“Gee, Keith, I’m super flattered, but I don’t think so. I’m tired and I think I’m gonna go to bed now.” Lance said as he threw a towel over his shoulder and walked past Keith towards the door.

“You’re just scared you’ll lose.” he heard Keith say. He stopped and looked back to catch Keith smirking at him.

Lance rubbed at the side of his neck, “No, I just-”

“Then you think you can win?”

“Keith-”

“Let’s make a wager,” Keith said, “If I win, you have to tell me what’s bothering you. Everything. No holds barred.”

Lance crossed his arms, cocking an eyebrow at him, “What if I win?”

“I’ll do your chores for four cycles.” Keith answered.

Lance frowned, that wasn’t exactly what he had in mind. He didn’t know what would have been more enticing, but he liked his chores. They kept his mind busy. Monotonous as they may be at times. 

It wasn’t like Keith’s prize was any better. He just wanted Lance to talk. That didn’t seem fair. And Lance didn’t exactly have to tell the truth either. It’s not like Keith would be able to tell the difference anyway. If Hunk couldn’t, Lance knew Keith didn’t have a snowball's chance in hell.

“And bragging rights.” Keith added with a smirk.

Lance scowled at him, like that was any more incentive. He didn’t care about bragging rights. That stuff didn’t matter to him anymore. Why would it? What did he have left to prove anyway?

But it seemed Keith wasn’t going to let go of this, so Lance begrudgingly obliged, hoping it would be over quickly so he could go back to bed. After his workout session, and a conversation with Keith, a fight would be more than enough to wear him out.

-

“Would you hurry up.” Keith snapped from the doorway.

Lance turned and shot him a glare, but said nothing, instead returning to the selection of weaponry before him. 

Keith had already donned his Red Paladin armor, and Lance was lucky to find a generic white set to use himself- minus the Voltron insignia on the chest plate. Now it was just up to Lance to find a weapon to use, since the Blue Paladin bayard no longer belonged to him either. 

The armory that adjoined the training deck was surprisingly well stocked. There was a slew of weapons to choose from, ranging from things he recognized as familiar from back on Earth, to devices he wasn’t sure he’d ever understand.

There were plenty of energy blaster-like weapons to choose from, which would have been his first pick, considering what his bayard had been when he was a paladin, but his eyes kept returning to an Altean glaive. Something in the back of his mind told him to pick it up, and he wasn’t sure if it was because Keith would also be wielding a melee weapon, or the strange notion he suddenly had that told him he could actually use it with some amount of skill. 

As he dismounted the polearm from the wall, he noted how lightweight and easy it felt in his hands, like holding it was natural. He’d never held one before, let alone any kind of close-combat melee weapon. Uses for things like this back on Earth were few and far between and Lance never found himself needing to utilize such weaponry, if any at all. But the glaive felt good. Familiar. 

With a satisfied smile he turned to Keith, who eyed his choice of weapon, and then him, with a curious lift of his eyebrow. Lance stuck his tongue out at the boy as he passed, causing Keith to snort, and they made their way to the center of the deck.

Lance’s hands wrung the haft of the polearm as he readied himself for the brawl. He fell into a fighting stance along with Keith, who was steady like a statue and poised like a wild cat, ready to pounce with his fighting experience and natural warrior spirit. Lance groaned inwardly at the thought that compared to Keith he must look like a child holding a stick.

A couple of ticks passed, and Lance was about to open his mouth and ask Keith if he was waiting for him to make the first move, when Keith cut him off with an unexpected leading strike that had Lance immediately on the defensive. 

Keith’s attacks were relentless, charging forward in a flurry of swipes and cleaves. Lance retreated as Keith advanced, the haft of Lance’s glaive was now being using as a shield as Lance did his best to parry the attacks, sending painful vibrations up through his fingers.

In a few short moments Keith had Lance already nearing the back wall. He glanced over his shoulder to gauge just how far he had left to go, when Keith’s leg came out of nowhere and kicked him hard in the chest. His back hit the wall where he slumped onto the floor, glaive lost from his grip in the surprise attack. 

_ Only it wasn’t a surprise. You took your eye off the enemy and he bested you. There was no surprise to it, idiot.  _

Lance groaned and cradled his head in his hands as it throbbed from where the back of the helmet had made contact the wall and sent a shockwave through it, jarring his brain. 

“Is that really all you’ve got?” Keith sneered down at him, twirling his sword around, daring him to stand and face him again. 

It was probably Keith’s attempt at being playful, but Lance wasn’t in any mood to play, and it only furthered to irritate him. 

Lance pushed himself up and grabbed his weapon, determined to make it more than one round against his self-proclaimed rival, regardless of how out of practice he was. 

His head was still swimming, and there was a hint of blackness teasing the edge of his vision that probably should have worried him. But Lance wouldn’t concede defeat, not yet, not so easily.

Suddenly, in the blink of an eye, everything turned dark. The light of the training deck was dim and bathed everything in a purple haze. But just as suddenly, Lance blinked again and everything was normal. Cheap, knock-off armor. It was probably a glitch in the display as a result of the damage it took against the wall.

Keith was already in a wide fighting stance, but Lance lowered his polearm and yanked off his helmet.

“What are you doing?” Keith questioned, watching as Lance tossed the helmet away.

“The display is malfunctioning.” Lance explained as he again took up his weapon.

“I don’t really think you should-”

“Keith, it’s fine. It’s more likely to get me killed than to actually help at this point.” Lance spat impatiently. 

“I still don’t think it’s a good idea,” Keith muttered.

“Can we just get this over with?” Lance asked, falling into his own wide stance, weapon at the ready.

“Fine by me,” Keith said. 

Keith lunged forward, and Lance could have sworn his vision flickered again, but it was so quick he couldn’t be sure. And Keith, his eyes, they were… 

But Keith was on him, and Lance had been startled into losing his edge, if he even could have had one to begin with, and was once again forced into defense mode. 

As he was pushed back towards the wall once again, Keith’s sword came around at a breakneck speed and Lance ducked just in time to avoid his head being hacked from his shoulders. He would have been angry, and he might have even stopped the fight to give Keith a piece of his mind, if he hadn’t suddenly noticed the opening in the follow-through of Keith’s attack. 

Without a second thought he took it, swiftly turning the polearm around in his hands and jamming the butt into the center of Keith’s chestplate. Keith’s legs flew out from under him and he landed in a heap on his back. He blinked, gazing up at Lance with wide eyes, who was looking back down at him just the same. 

“W-What was that?” Keith shouted after a beat.

“Uh..” was all Lance could say.

Keith scrambled to his feet and regained his composure, “Again!” he shouted.

“W-wait, hang on-”

But Keith was already on the move, swiping left and right in calculated swings, once again putting Lance on the defensive. Lance blocked and parried to the best of his ability, fingers becoming numb as they absorbed the shock of the clashing weapons. 

Keith suddenly dropped, and his leg came out in a wide arc, forcing Lance to jump to avoid being knocked off his feet.

“Why don’t you show me what those fancy legs of yours can do.” Keith teased, aiming another couple of kicks at Lance’s legs.

Those he couldn’t avoid, he was able to slap away with the haft of the polearm. He growled as Keith dropped into another low kick, and he was almost tempted to show him exactly what those fancy legs could do, i.e. smash his knee through the plexi display of Keith’s helmet and break his nose, or stomp on the leg that was currently trying to trip him, snapping the bone in half. 

That would certainly  _ show him _ , wouldn’t it?

Lance shuddered as the thought sent a chill through him, it would have been downright cruel, and Lance wondered why it had even crossed his mind to begin with. This was a spar, not some do or die deathmatch. He just wanted to show Keith that he could be a worthy opponent, that he could be worth his time. He didn’t want to  _ maim _ the Red Paladin. 

Besides, it would be unfair to use his legs as an advantage over Keith, even if Keith was using the unfair advantage of all his training and experience over Lance, who hadn’t been on the training deck in months.

For Lance it seemed like an uphill battle, but one he was willing to fight for. Even if he didn’t win, he could still put up a good fight and leave with some dignity.

Hopefully.

Once again, Lance found himself being backed to a wall and this familiar game they were playing was starting to get old. Just once he’d like to get the upper hand on Keith, just once he’d like to back Keith into a wall. But Lance was lucky to still even be in the fight at all. 

Why was that?

In the past, Lance would have tapped out as soon as his head had been rattled against the wall, calling some unsportsmanlike penalty as an excuse. But something was pushing him forward. A strength and determination he hadn’t known he possessed. He had been sure that by now his muscles would have been aching and tired, but, if anything, they sang with the exertion. 

But that didn’t stop him from misstepping after a rather powerful attack from Keith. And, as a result, he moved too late to block the next swing, and Keith slammed the broad side of the sword into his rib plate, knocking him sideways where he tripped over his feet and fell to his hands and knees.

He paused, panting heavily and stared at his shaking fingers splayed out on the floor. The blackness lingering on the edge of his vision was starting to move in like a dark fog, and for a split second everything dimmed again before returning to the bright lighting of the room. 

Keith paced just out of his sight like a caged cat, agitating Lance to no end. He shook his head, growling, and pushed himself up on his feet again.

“Are you alright?” Keith asked, watching Lance with cautious eyes, “Maybe we should stop.”

_ Are you going to let him humiliate you? _

“No,” Lance spat.

_ Take the upper hand. _

Lance threw his head from side to side as he cracked his neck, rolled his shoulders and twirled the polearm in his hands and pointed it at Keith. The other boy  smirked, seemingly appeased, and met Lance in his own readied stance again. 

_ Smile while you can, mullet, cause I’m gonna wipe it off your face. _

The Red Paladin charged again, but this time Lance was ready. Keith’s bayard swung, and Lance arched backwards into a back handspring, landing on his feet with the utmost grace. He could see Keith’s eyes go wide and he grinned. It was his turn to catch the paladin off guard and put him on the run.

In the second or so after Keith’s failed attack he could only watch as Lance waited for the opening, when his sword had swung well out of range, then leapt forward. He nearly couldn’t block fast enough.

His assault was almost as relentless as Keith’s had been, yet not as wild and rapid; more of a calm and almost frightening pursuit. Every step was calculated, advancing on Keith like cornered prey, using the momentum of his body to wield the polearm like an extension of his limbs. If Keith didn’t know any better, he’d say Lance wasn’t as out of practice as he’d claimed.

Every confident step forward for the former Blue Paladin was a tentative step back for Keith, not used to being backed up in this manner, and still surprised at Lance’s renewed vigor and skill. As Keith neared the back wall he grunted and broke the backward drive, locking the blade of his sword with the haft of Lance’s glaive and holding him in place.

Keith grit his teeth as he pushed against Lance who pushed back just as hard. Halted, they stared each other down, each daring the other to move. 

Keith felt his feet slide backwards just an inch or so and he gasped. Lance smirked and suddenly made to jerk his weapon up, and with it Keith’s sword. But Keith had shoved himself away just in time, only for their weapons to come back together in a loud clang that resonated around the large room. 

Keith pushed away again before Lance had a chance to repeat his disarming action, and as they came back together once more they were suddenly dancing. Their footwork was like that of some elegant courtship waltz. Their weapons followed suit, crashing against the other’s waiting arm as if expertly rehearsed.

Lance wielded the polearm like he had been born to do so, like a trained martial artist might handle a bow staff. It helicoptered in his hands as he twisted and turned and clashed it against Keith’s sword. Every movement was strategic and his body was nimble and lithe as he ducked, dodged and parried Keith’s attacks.

This is more like it, Keith thought, this is a fight. In that moment he didn’t think about where Lance had learned to fight like that, or if and why he had been holding out on him all this time, but rather the excitement of an opponent that met him blow for blow, parry for parry. Only Shiro was able to spar like this with him up until now. But now that he knew Lance could keep up, he’d be sure to proposition him more often in the future.

Though just as suddenly as Lance had sprung this new revelation onto him, it stopped. Or rather, Lance abruptly ended the dance and threw the Red Paladin for a loop.

Keith had slashed downward with his sword, under the assumption that the haft of Lance’s polearm would be waiting to stop it, only for Lance to draw back and let Keith’s bayard hit the ground. 

Keith grunted, preparing to hoist it back up into another attack, but before he could, Lance’s foot slammed down on the bevel of the sword. 

Keith yanked on the handle, fruitlessly trying to dislodge it from where it was stymied under the other boy’s boot. He looked up at Lance, opening his mouth to chide him, but the expression on the other boy’s face was enough to make him snap it back shut.

Lance smirked ominously, and his eyes were narrowed dangerously as he looked down at him. The blue of his irises all but pushed to the outer edges as his pupils engulfed them. 

Keith’s stomach dropped and before he could even think to move, Lance was already stepping forward onto the fuller of Keith’s sword, stomping it to the floor and out of his grip as he turned his body.  His torso dropped down as his knee came up, and he delivered a swift kick into Keith’s gut. 

Keith’s body folded in like a lawn chair as he was swept off his feet and thrown backwards, landing on his back with a slight bounce and skidding across the polished floor. He laid there for a moment, then pushed himself up with a groan, wincing as he rubbed the flat of his stomach that he knew would be sore and bruised soon.

Lance’s movement caught his eye and he glanced up as the boy toed his sword, then scooped it up into the air and caught it in one hand. Keith watched him curiously, wondering if he was going to hand the weapon back to him to resume the fight. He briefly pondered whether they should or not. Likely it was pretty late now, probably early morning, and Keith would be lying if he said that last blow hadn’t been exceptionally painful. Maybe they should call it quits for now, and Keith would be ready for him next time.

Lance eyed the bayard for a moment, then glanced up at Keith with an unreadable expression. Any idea that Lance had wanted to continue to spar flew out of the window when his lips quirked up into a dark sneer and he chucked the weapon away. 

Keith’s heart sank. He watched it skate across the floor till it came to a stop far out of his reach. Then his eyes flitted back to Lance as he began to advance on the Red Paladin in long, confident strides.

Keith swallowed the hard lump in his throat. Every fiber of his being was telling him to get up, move, run after his bayard; but he was pinned to the ground by Lance’s icy gaze. He had never seen the boy look so ruthless before. 

What had gotten into him?

The former paladin paused momentarily in front of Keith, leering down at him. Then his right foot came up and he shoved the Red Paladin back down to the floor roughly. Keith felt Lance’s boot pressing into his chestplate threateningly. As the airflow to his lungs became constricted by the weight, he was reminded that the boy’s prosthetic legs could crush his sternum like a twig, and for a moment he wondered if Lance might actually do it. 

Lance brought the tip of the blade down, point brushing under Keith’s chin, lightly grazing the skin of his neck and tearing his flight suit. Keith’s eyes went wide as felt the warm trickle of blood before he instinctively tried to move away, but the other boy’s boot held him firmly in place.

Lance was enjoying the look of astonishment in the boy's eyes. He reveled in the fact that he had defeated him and basked in the glory of his victory. Finally, Lance had gotten the upper hand. He had bested Keith and the Red Paladin now lay under his boot, completely at his mercy.

And Lance loved it.

Keith’s chest heaved, desperate to put air into his lungs. He tried not to swallow involuntarily, fearing the tip of the blade, too close for comfort against his throat. Lance drank in the terror in Keith’s eyes. He was never one to show it, and yet here he was, gazing up at him like he was something to be feared. 

_ Show him no mercy. _

His grin grew wider, baring his teeth at the other boy. He wasn’t sure where these feelings were coming from, but it felt good. He felt strong, powerful. Seeing Keith under him, defeated and fearful, gave him a sickeningly sweet thrill. 

_ Kill him. _

He could. It would be so easy. The tip of the glaive was already pressed dangerously against Keith’s jugular. Just one little flick and the tender skin would open like a strained seam. It would be  _ so easy _ .

Lance tilted his head to the side, watching intently as the tiny trickle of dark red liquid stained the expanse of Keith’s pale throat. 

The darkness began to swirl on the edges of his vision. 

“L-Lance?” Keith’s voice cracked around a breathy exhale. 

Lance’s smile fell. Suddenly this didn’t feel so right anymore. 

He blinked and shook his head, then looked back down at the Red Paladin. Keith’s body was rigid under his boot. Clenched teeth and fists as the pointed tip of the glaive was held dangerously against his throat.

He was afraid. Terrified. And it looked so wrong on him. And it was even more disturbing that he was the object of his fear. 

Lance’s breath hitched and his heart dropped into his stomach. He again caught sight of the blood that was pooling in the hollow of Keith’s throat and he froze. His stomach turned in on itself and he nearly heaved. 

He knew he shouldn’t have felt that way. Keith, no matter how irritating at times, was still his teammate. And he, though no longer a paladin, was still a good person. Right? So why had he been so excited at the thought of slicing Keith’s throat open like a Christmas ham?

Lance jerked the blade away and removed his boot from the paladin’s chestplate. Keith inhaled immediately, gasping deeply now that there was no obstruction, and pushed himself up on his forearms.

Shaking, Lance took a few steps back and dropped his weapon. It clattered to the ground, forgotten. 

The dark cloud moved further inward, and consumed his vision until there was only blackness. 

He peered around, fearful, his heart hammering in his chest. He was no longer in the castle, but wherever he was was loud.A sound like a screaming wind assaulted his eardrums. 

He slapped his hands over his ears, wide eyes searching desperately in the darkness for a way out. But the inky blackness seemed to stretch on infinitely in all directions. He started to panic, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he gasped for air.

Then the darkness relented and slowly gave way, allowing Lance to see. There had been no doubt now he was no longer in the Castle of Lions. Before him was an expanse of dull dark ground, and giant, towering walls and pillars. Looking up he finally realized what the screaming sound was and Lance’s breath caught in his throat as the memories came rushing back at the mere sight.

“No.” he breathed. Not here. Anywhere but here.

“Did you honestly think…” 

Lance whipped around, coming face to face with the Galra he dreaded seeing most in the universe. The one with the sick smile that soured his stomach.

“... it would be so easy to escape?”

 


	4. Wakings

Keith sat up with a groan, keeping his eyes fixed on Lance who was standing with his back to him and his hands cupped over his ears. He was mumbling, talking to someone that wasn’t there. He sounded frantic, but Keith couldn’t hear a word he was saying.

He yanked his helmet off, then reached inside and activated a tiny switch and glanced to where his weapon lay on the floor across the room, and then to Lance’s weapon, a little closer, and prepared himself to grab it if need be. He wasn’t sure what was going on with Lance, but if he suddenly attacked, Keith needed to be ready. 

“Lance,” he rasped, then cleared his throat and tried again a little stronger, “Lance, what’s going on?” 

If Lance heard him at all he didn’t show any signs of it. 

Keith pushed himself up to stand, cringing at the soreness already manifesting in his muscles. He staggered the few steps to the glaive, then, with his eyes trained on Lance, he kicked it across the room. To his relief the boy didn’t turn on him, didn’t even flinch.

He watched Lance for a moment more before moving again. Slowly, and cautiously, he took a step towards him. 

“Lance, can you hear me?” he asked, his voice as gentle as he could make it, “Are you okay?”

This time he seemed to respond, slowly letting his hands fall away from his ears.

“Lance?” Keith asked, tilting his head to the side to try and see his face.

Lance stood up a little straighter, “Keith? Is that you? You’re here?”

The Red Paladin blinked, a little put off by the odd statement. Of course he was, he’d been here all along. Where did Lance think he was? Did… did he think he was… ?

“Yeah, Lance, it’s me. I’m right here.” he said, taking a step closer, putting him within arm's length of the former paladin. He knew it might not have been the best idea, but the way Lance was talking was concerning. Keith needed to see his face, he needed Lance to look at him. He reached out and touched him gently on the shoulder, and when Lance turned around to face him, it was as if the wind had been knocked out of his chest all over again.

Staring back at him were two wide, glowing purple eyes. Not a sign of his usual calm blue, not even a hint of Lance’s former self manifested in those wicked voids. They were purple, sclera and all, and Keith reeled back as Lance turned all the way around towards him.

“What took you so long?” Lance asked, his voice firm. His eyebrows furrowed in anger and he took a step towards Keith, “I’ve been here for so long, Keith.”

The Red Paladin stumbled over his footing, but he recovered and continued to inch backwards as Lance came towards him. “What are you talking about, Lance?”

“I waited so long for someone to come for me. But you never did. None of you ever came. You left me there.” Lance spat as he balled his fists.

“Lance you’re in the castle. You’re not with the Galra anymore, we saved you.” Keith said. His voice was tight and strained as he watched the boy in front of him fume. His eyes seemed to glow furiously brighter the angrier he became.

“Saved? You think you saved me?” Lance growled. He swung his arms at Keith, fingers splayed out as if they were clawed, swiping at the Red Paladin. Keith retreated, careful to stay just out of reach. 

Then he used his legs, kicking wildly, swinging with such power that Keith could hear the air being sliced as they sailed just inches past his head, reminding him that Lance didn’t need a weapon to be dangerous. 

Suddenly he leapt forward, taking him off guard, tackling Keith to the ground as he wrapped both hands around his throat. 

Keith, too stunned to do anything, could only stare up in horror at Lance’s angry glowing eyes and clenched teeth. To say he was frightened was an understatement; He was terrified. But even more so he was heartbroken, heartbroken that Lance would even think they had left him there to his fate with the Galra.

Every bit of the six months from the time Lance had been taken, up until the time they had rescued him from that prison ship, had been spent scouring the galaxies for him. They never gave up, Keith wouldn’t allow it. It had taken a while, and there had been times when they had lost hope of him even still being alive, but even that wasn’t going to stop Keith. 

“Lance,” he choked out, his own hands gripping at the ones around his throat, trying with all his might to pry the fingers off of his neck, “I-… We looked everywhere. We didn’t... stop. N-Not until we… found you.”

Lance used one hand to swat Keith’s away, then resumed his grasp on the Red Paladin, clenching his fingers slowly and bringing tears to the corners of Keith’s eyes. He leaned in close and snarled, “By the time you found me there was nothing left to save.”

Just as Keith felt he was going to pass out, the doors to the training deck slid open and Keith craned his head to see the others there, rushing at them, lead by the Black Paladin. Just in time. He was beginning to think they hadn’t heard his distress signal. 

“Shiro!” Keith gasped, causing Lance to jerk his head up as well. Keith, at the break in Lance’s concentration, used his remaining strength to shove him off and Lance was thrown to the ground by the Black and Yellow Paladins.

Lance roared and struggled under their grip as they pinned his arms to the floor. He tried to buck and kick them off but Allura and Snimo sat on and pinned his legs as well. 

Coran kneeled down between Hunk and Allura, screwing a rather long and intimidating looking needle onto a syringe filled with what everyone hoped was some kind of Altean sedative. 

Lance thrashed, wiggling violently under the two paladins and making it very difficult for Coran to get anywhere near his veins safely. 

“Hold him steady,” Coran said as he hovered over Hunk. 

“That’s easier said than done, man,” Hunk retorted, trying his hardest to keep Lance’s arm still as Coran took the needle between his teeth and removed Lance’s arm plate.

Everyone held on tight, pressing Lance’s limbs to the floor as hard as they could. Snimo, not as physically strong as the Altean beside him, was having trouble with Lance’s left prosthetic and Allura had to reach over and help him hold it down. 

After a few moments Lance seemed to have worn himself out. His body was still tight and rigid, ready to throw the others off at a moment’s notice, but he was no longer thrashing. Instead he lay still, chest heaving as he glared up at Coran and the syringe in his hand, daring him to come close again.

Shiro, having not checked on Keith since they entered the room, called out to him, “Keith, are you alright?” Shiro asked.

Keith, from somewhere behind him, replied shakily, “Y-Yeah… I’m fine.”

Lance jerked his head toward Shiro, staring at him with those purple eyes that made the Black Paladin’s skin crawl. His discomfort seemed to thrill Lance, and he sneered at Shiro menacingly. 

“Champion,” Lance spoke venomously, “Your reign is over.” 

Then he laughed, loud and maniacal, his wild eyes still boring into Shiro’s. 

Coran took his opportunity while Lance was distracted, and was finally able to stick him. In no time he had the needle deep inside the vein running up Lance’s forearm, bulging under the flight suit, and pushed the plunger down till the syringe was empty. 

Lance hissed and yanked his arm out from under the Yellow Paladin’s grasp, coating himself in his own blood from the spurting injection site where the needle had torn out. 

Hunk tried to grab him again, but Lance was too quick, and his arm came around and punched Shiro in the face. 

Disoriented, Shiro released his iron grip and Lance ripped his other arm free as well. Then he was able to kick Allura and Snimo off his legs and he sprang to his feet. 

Hunk stood up behind him, prepared to locked his arms around and incapacitate him, but Lance was quick, and he turned to grab the Yellow Paladin by the arm and flipped him over his shoulder. 

Hunk’s back met the hard floor and he groaned, then rolled over onto his stomach to glare at the Altean.

“Coran, what gives?” he complained as he got back on his feet.

“Not to worry, it should only take a dobosh or so,” Coran answered, “Although there is a chance I didn’t give him enough. Your human anatomy is very tricky.”

“Are you kidding me?” Pidge screamed. 

Lance turned his attention to the small Green Paladin at the sound of her voice. He growled, low and threatening in his throat, and made to come after her next, but Shiro stepped in his way.

“Lance, I don’t want to hurt you,” he spoke firmly. 

Lance huffed, “Touching,” then he shot his arms forward and grabbed Shiro, one hand gripped his prosthetic arm and the other grappled at the side of his neck. He pushed to the left, trying to shove Shiro over, but the Black Paladin resisted, shoving against him to keep upright. 

Then Lance smirked and Shiro realized he had been tricked too late, and the boy swept his right leg out from under him and, using Shiro’s momentum against him, threw the Black Paladin to the right, slamming him to the floor. 

Shiro hit the ground with another grunt. He had not been expecting to be thrown like that, much less by Lance. He was twice as big as the former paladin and yet the boy had thrown him to the floor with the brute force of a linebacker. 

He tried to recover and get to his feet but he felt his arm being twisted backwards and he cried out in pain. When he looked up Lance standing over him with his wrist in one hand, smirking down at him, his foot pressed firmly into the elbow joint of the prosthesis. 

“You aren’t fit… to wear… this anymore,” Lance breathed, clearly tired, on the cusp of being KOed by the Altean sedative. 

“Shiro!” Keith cried, running towards them, only to be stopped by Hunk.

Lance shot him a ominous grin as he approached, “Don’t worry pretty boy… you’re… ne-”

Lance grimaced, blinked and shook his head, swaying on his feet, and everyone watched as the purple glow faded from his eyes. He looked around the room, as if seeing all of them for the first time, then he looked down.

“Sh-Shiro?” he gasped. He released his grasp on Shiro’s wrist and stumbled away from him quickly. 

“Lance?” Keith asked, cautiously coming closer.

Lance looked up at him, eyes wide and terrified, “Keith? W-What’s-”

Just then he cried out, screwing his eyes tight and clutching his head in his hands. 

“Lance, are you alright?” Shiro asked as he got to his feet.

Lance looked up as Keith came to stand next to Shiro, with Hunk and Pidge not too far behind. His eyes were bloodshot and red rimmed, and he looked on the verge of tears.

“Oh god… I remember,” he groaned, his voice cracking around a sob that had welled up in his throat. Then he closed his eyes again tightly, falling to his knees. His fingers were woven and fisted into his hair. 

Shiro’s heart sank. He could only imagine what he meant and what that implied. Every pained groan out of Lance’s mouth sent an aching pang straight to his heart. He knew exactly what that was like. He only wished he could somehow take it away, and feel it for himself all over again. No one should have to go through that, especially one so young.

Hunk stepped forward, “You gotta talk to us, bud, you gotta tell us what’s wrong,” he said gently. 

He glanced up again, right at Hunk, looking completely and utterly destroyed. Tears began streaking down his face. In that moment he looked so weak, so helpless, so small. A far cry from just moments ago.

Then he looked to Keith, and he opened his mouth as if to say something, but just then he slumped, and the Red Paladin rushed forward to catch the boy before he hit the ground. 

The sedative had finally taken effect and he was out cold. 

Silence fell over the training deck. With Lance down for the count it was as if someone had hit the pause button. Everything seemed deathly quiet now, and everyone stared at Keith, sitting on the floor, as he cradled an unconscious Lance in his arms. 

A few more moments went by in the strained silence, then Hunk spoke up, voicing what they had all been thinking.

“Is someone gonna tell me what’s going on? Why my best friend was trying to kill Keith, why he Judo flipped me over the shoulder and why he nearly dis _ armed _ Shiro?” he ranted.

They all turned back to Keith, who had been with Lance the whole time, who had sent the distress signal, who had to have some idea of what was going on.

“W-We were sparring and-”

“What?” Pidge exclaimed, “It’s the middle of the night, Keith. Did you really have to have this grudge match at such an ungodly hour?”

“Just let him finish,” Shiro said.

Keith took a deep breath and started again, “We were sparring and… I don’t know… he changed. It was like he wasn’t himself. And he… he… “

He didn’t know what else to say, he didn’t know any more than that, only that he had been shaken up by the whole ordeal more than he thought he would have, and he didn’t know how to deal with it.

Allura spoke up as keith trailed off, “Alright, I might be able to glean something from his quintessence,” she said as she knelt down beside the two boys. “Coran, Pidge: I need you to get to the infirmary and prepare a healing pod. I want full body and brain scans, the works,” she ordered. Then she brushed some of hair away from Lance’s face and placed her fingers delicately on each side of his head at the temples and they began to emit a soft glow. “Hunk and Shiro: I need you two to-  _ oh _ !”

It was like nothing she’d ever felt before. As soon as her energy brushed up against Lance’s quintessence it lashed out at her with a malevolence she had not expected from the former Blue Paladin. She recoiled, yanked her hands away and stood quickly, nearly tripping on her robe. 

“Oh? What does that mean, oh?” Hunk asked, panic rising in his voice. 

Snimo caught her as she stumbled, “Princess, are you alright? What happened?” he asked. 

Allura frowned as she rubbed her fingers from where they had gone cold. Lance’s quintessence felt familiar, but there was something to it, something that felt off. A Blue Paladin’s quintessence, even a former paladin, should be warm and friendly. Lance’s quintessence was cold and… and angry.

“Allura? What is it?” Coran asked, snapping her out of her thoughts.

“N-Nothing. Just some static electricity is all,” she explained. Then she finished dishing out her orders before anyone could speak, “Hunk and Shiro I need you to take Lance and get this armor off of him and into the cryosuit while they prepare the pod.” 

Everyone gawked at her, more than a little suspicious that she wasn’t tell them the truth. 

“Go! Now!” she ordered, sending the team into a frenzy as they hurried to follow her command. 

With no orders directed his way and nothing else to do, Snimo looked for Keith, and found him sitting with his back against the far wall, looking worse for wear. He approached Keith as everyone else quickly fled the room, leaving the Red and Blue Paladins alone together. 

Keith didn’t even acknowledge Snimo’s presence, didn’t even realize he was there until Snimo placed a tentative hand on his knee, causing the Red Paladin to flinch.

“Are you alright?” Snimo asked, dipping his head to see under the boys hair that obscured his eyes. 

“M’ fine.” Keith huffed as he turned away from the concerned alien.

It was then that Snimo noticed the small cut on keith’s throat, which was still painted red with dried blood, making it appear worse than it really was. 

“You’re injured,” he said, “Let me-”

Keith’s hand flew to cover it, and he glared at Snimo, “I said I’m fine!” he snapped. Then he stood on wobbly legs and stormed over to where his bayard lay on the floor. He scooped it up and clipped it back to his belt, then, without even a glance in Snimo’s direction, made for the exit. 

“I’m going to take a shower,” he announced.

Snimo let him go, watching as he, too, fled the room. He wondered if Keith would ever open up to him, or if he’d continue to bottle up his emotions. Humans sure were odd about keeping things from each other, he thought.

Such a concept was uncommon to his species. Humans were very strange and difficult for Snimo to get used to, but his new friends were patient with him, and he’d be patient with them too.

-

Pidge walked a little slower, sidling up next to Hunk as he and Shiro followed Coran up to med bay. Lance was slumped forward between them, his head lolling from side to side as they tried, and failed, to walk in unison. 

“What do you think’s gotten into Allura? I mean she yells at us, yeah, but never like that,” Pidge mumbled quietly so Coran wouldn’t hear her.

“I don’t know but I think we deserved more than the silent treatment. This is my best friend she’s keeping secrets about, if it’s important, I wanna know.” Hunk grumbled back.

“Yeah, but still, there’s no reason to be a Major Payne about it and bite our heads off. S’not like we did anything wrong,” she griped.

“She can drill sergeant me all she wants,” Hunk said, “I just want to know if my friend is going to be okay.”

“Stow it, you two. The princess is just under a lot of stress right now, we all are. I’m sure she has a perfectly good explanation for why she wouldn’t tell us what happened. And if it is something to be concerned about I’m sure she’ll let us know,” Shiro scolded. 

Pidge grumbled again, under her breath, something about still being treated like a child even if they were fighting her war. 

Hunk didn’t respond, and Shiro pretended not to hear her, but he made it a point to confront Allura about it later.

Up in the infirmary, Coran and Pidge went to work programming the pod for Lance, while Shiro and Hunk stripped off Lance’s suit and armor, getting him ready for the cryosuit. 

Hunk had unzipped the suit while Shiro worked on his greaves and boots, when something caught his eye.

“Uh, guys? I found something,” he said.

Everyone stopped what they were doing and looked up at him, then they all crowded around the head of the examination table to get a better look.

Hunk pulled the suit down away from Lance’s neck. There at the base of his neck, on his left side, was a large, angry purple burn mark that reached down over his collar and chest.

Pidge leaned in closer, adjusting her glasses, “It looks like a handprint. Look,” she said, placing her hand above the mark for comparison, “They’re clearly fingers. But they’re too long to be any of ours. They look… “

“Galran,” Shiro finished. 

“How come Lance never mentioned this?” Pidge exclaimed, then she turned to Hunk, “Wait, you and Keith put him in the cryosuit last time. There’s no way you could have missed this.” 

“Yeah, I think we would have remembered a giant purple handprint. It’s kind of hard to miss,” Hunk said. 

“So how in the world did this happen between then and now?” Pidge asked, “Could there be a Galra on board?”

“Highly unlikely. I ran a scan of the ship at the time of Keith’s distress signal. I would have seen if there were any Galra on board this ship. Well, other than our resident half-Galra,” Coran explained. 

“I don’t understand. Something like this can’t just show up,” Pidge argued. 

“Have you noticed he’s has been rubbing his neck lately? Like it hurts?” Hunk observed.

“Not really, no. Listen, I don’t spend a lot of time staring at Lance,” Pidge answered bluntly.

Hunk gave her a disappointed glare before continuing, “I’ve just noticed sometimes that he’ll rub at his neck randomly.”

“Could be just a nervous tic,” Pidge suggested. 

“Yeah but he winces, like it hurts. And I noticed it’s always been on the same side. The same side this mark is on,” Hunk explained. 

“Yeah, but Hunk, this doesn’t make sense.” Pidge said as she threw her arms up in the air. 

“If I had to guess I’d say it’s from druid magic. Druid magic is just that: magic, and therefore not constrained to any sense of… well, sense,” Coran observed. 

“Druids? Aren’t those the ones that took your arm, Shiro?” Hunk asked.

“Yeah, they are,” Shiro answered grimly. 

Everyone silently came to the same conclusion, and when Pidge spoke up, her voice quaked with emotion, “Do… do you think they made him fight too?”

Shiro frowned, it would explain a lot. His legs, the involvement of the druids, what Lance said to him on the training deck. Everything was starting to point in that direction. 

Only Lance knew for sure. And they just might get their answers soon enough now that Lance’s memories had apparently returned. If he was up to it, that is, and willing to confide in them. 

As much as they wanted to know, Shiro would never push. Nobody pressured him about his memories, and he hoped they’d afford Lance the same courtesy, even if it was well intentioned.

“Let’s just… finish up and get him into the pod,” Shiro suggested. 

The others shared somber looks, then returned to their tasks.

-

It was a little more than a quintant before Lance came out of cryo. Pidge and Coran administered tests almost round the clock, rarely leaving the chamber for more than a few dobashes, sleeping for only a varga or two.

Snimo had only visited Lance once during his confinement in the cryochamber, and in that time he had noticed the Red Paladin’s reluctance to even step inside the room. Instead, while everyone else fretted over the state of the former Blue Paladin, Keith holed himself up inside the training deck, pitting himself against the drone centurions till he could barely function.

So Snimo, not wanting to be in the way in the infirmary, and trying to be supportive, decided that his best role would be to attend to the Red Paladin, and make sure he was alright. And if that meant sparring with him, well then spar they would.

Snimo sat cross-legged next to Keith and handed him an Altean juice pouch. Keith took it without a word and they sat in silence in a break from their sparring. 

Snimo snuck a few glances at Keith from the corner of his eye. On the outside he looked calm, collected, but Snimo had become increasingly worried about how quiet the Red Paladin had been since the day before. He hadn’t said a word about the incident, other than what he divulged in front of everyone after Lance had been anesthetized. He could tell it was bothering Keith greatly, but he was trying not to overstep his bounds.

His neck bore bruises from the attack, wrapping around his throat like Lance’s hands had been, along with the angry red cut across the front of his throat. 

It must have been a truly frightening experience, having someone you think you can trust turn on you like that. And the purple eyes, like a Galra, like Zarkon; it had been terrifying to see at a distance, let alone on top of you, trying to choke the life out of you. 

Maybe that was why he didn’t leave the training deck, isolating himself so no one could see the extent of his injuries. Keith’s mental state was growing increasingly more troubled, that much was obvious. Snimo could see it plain as daylight, and that means the other paladins would too. Probably another reason the Red Paladin was hiding.

Keith must have felt Snimo staring because he slipped on his jacket and pulled the collar tighter around his neck. 

“Why won’t you visit your friend?” Snimo asked suddenly. He noticed Keith’s body tense out of the corner of his eye, but he said nothing, waiting patiently for an answer.

“They’ve got it handled,” Keith replied dismissively. 

“I know… but you won’t even go inside to see him. Aren’t you worried?” Snimo persisted. 

“They’ve got it handled,” he said again a bit firmer.

Snimo frowned, “Keith… I… I  _ try _ to understand the need for humans to cover up emotions-”

“I’m not covering up anything!” Keith snapped, turning on the blue alien with a hard expression.

“Okay, okay… I just want you to know that I am your friend. You can confide in me. You don’t have to keep this to yourself.” Snimo said. 

Keith was silent for a moment, and Snimo just counted his lucky stars that the Red Paladin hadn’t stormed off yet. Then he sighed, and turned towards the alien with a harrowed expression.

“Snimo, I-”

Just as he was about to begin, Coran came on the intercom, his voice echoing around the high-ceilinged room, “We’re pulling Lance out of cryo. Allura thinks everyone should be there, so please report to the infirmary immediately.”

Keith was up before Coran could even finish, and he made a beeline for the door, ignoring Snimo’s look of surprise. But he stood too, and silently followed the Red Paladin out of the training room and to the infirmary as per Coran’s request.

They were the last ones to arrive, and Coran was already starting the reanimation sequence when they walked in. Everyone looked on in anticipation, waiting for the former Blue Paladin to emerge from his frozen state. 

The glass came down with the familiar  _ fwoosh _ sound and Lance exhaled a puff of steam before his eyes fluttered open and he tipped forward. 

Hunk was there in an instant, scooping Lance up into his arms, “Lance, bud, talk to me,” he said.

Lance looked up from where his face had been squished into Hunk’s shoulder and peered up at the taller boy with tired eyes, “Hey, Hunk, where am I?”

“You’re in the infirmary, you just came out of cryo. How do you feel?” Hunk asked. 

“I feel… fine. Did something happen?” Lance asked.

Hunk peered back at the others, waiting to see if anyone else wanted to take the reins or if they wanted him to be the one to tell him. 

“Lance,” Allura began gently, “We responded to Keith’s distress signal. You two were on the training deck.”

“Keith…” Lance said, “Right… we were…”

“Do you… remember anything?” Shiro asked. He didn’t miss how  _ deja vuu _ it sounded from weeks prior when he asked the same thing of Lance after his rescue, and subsequent stay in the cryopod. He even still didn’t know if he’d get a definitive answer.

“I remember… “ Lance began, thinking back to the moments before his lapsed memory, “I remember we were sparring… and…”

Images of that night began to fill his head. Keith finding him in the gym, challenging him to a sparring match, picking the glaive off the wall. Lance remembered the irritation he’d felt at Keith’s goading and the way he’d pushed his rival back, for once. The absolute surge of pleasure from beating him in a fight. Then a darkness, his vision flickering purple, and Keith was laying under him with Lance’s weapon at his blood-stained throat.

His eyes went wide and he pushed off Hunk, nearly stumbling down the stairs, “Keith, where is Keith!?” he cried, peering around the room.

“Chill, Lance,” Pidge said as she motioned behind her, “He’s right here, brooding in the back as usual.”

Lance’s eyes zeroed in on Keith’s and he breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of the Red Paladin and smiled. Then he ran to him and threw his arms around the other boy’s neck.

“Keith, oh god, you’re okay,” Lance mumbled into his shoulder. 

Keith didn’t respond, didn’t even hug him back. He was just frozen there in Lance’s embrace. Lance, though, was so overwhelmed with joy that he thought nothing of it.

Then he pulled back, still gripping Keith by the shoulders, and grinned, “Keith, I’m so-”

It was then that he noticed Keith’s tension and his rapid breathing. His eyes flickered down to the curious discoloration around the Red Paladin’s neck and his breath caught in his throat.

“Keith… what…”

He made to pull the collar of Keith’s jacket away from his neck but the Red Paladin’s hand shot up and stopped him. But it didn’t matter, Lance could see enough. He could see the dark purple bruising, in the shapes of fingers, clearly defined against Keith’s pale throat. 

His heart sank into his stomach and his hands began to shake, “Did… did I… ?”

Ignoring the boy’s attempt to stop him, he brought his other hand up to rest against Keith’s neck, lining his fingers up perfectly with the bruises there. As soon as they came in contact with the bruised skin, Keith hissed, and Lance jerked away as if he’d been bitten.

He stepped away from Keith, eyes wide and brimming with unshed tears, “Oh my god… Keith… I’m-I’m so sorry.” 

Keith pulled his jacket tighter around him and tried to shrug the incident off as nothing, “Listen, Lance, It-It’s not that bad, okay?”

But Lance wasn’t convinced. He covered his mouth like he was going to be sick and the tears spilled over onto his cheeks as he continued to stare at the damage he had inflicted. 

Keith took a tentative step towards him, “Lance, listen to me-”

“No!” he shouted, taking a few steps back. He peered around the room at the others as he inched towards the door, then back to Keith.

“Stay… Stay away.” he whispered, and then he bolted from the room as fast as could.

After a moment, when they could no longer hear Lance’s footfalls down the hallway, Shiro turned to him, and Keith could feel his eyes scanning the extent of the bruises. He bristled, and turned to glare at him too.

“What?” Keith snapped. 

Shiro frowned, but decided he’d address Keith’s hostility later, “Why didn’t you say anything?” he asked.

Keith clenched his jaw shut, biting back a disrespectful retort about how he’s allowed to have his privacy. Instead, he tried to think of an excuse, but found there wasn’t one Shiro would blindly accept.

“Yeah, dude, we could have set you up in a pod,” Pidge said, “It looks like it hurts. I’m sure a few ticks would take care of it.”

All eyes were on him. Even Coran, who had been initiating the power-down process on Lance’s pod, turned to oogle at him now. All of them looked concerned, pitying, and Keith’s skin burned under their gazes, his whole body a fiery furnace of embarrassment.

He glared at all of them, then back at Shiro, and without a word he, too, stormed out of the infirmary. 

Shiro sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He certainly had his work cut out for him, and he silently played a game of eenie meenie miney moe to determine which boy he was going to go after first.

-

Keith marched his way angrily back to the training deck, determined to resume the mind-numbing rituals of disassembling Allura’s training drones. 

It was a mistake, he shouldn’t even have left in the first place, shouldn’t even have shown up. He had no problems with disobeying orders in the past, especially when he didn’t see the benefit they offered him. What was he thinking, believing that things would just… go well?

Of course they wouldn’t. They never did.

Just like at the Garrison, when he tried to befriend Lance and blew it, causing Lance to distance himself from Keith and form that ridiculous, made-up rivalry. 

Just like when he confronted Iverson about the coverup concerning the Kerberos mission and was promptly booted.

Just like when he took the initiative in that Galra compound, leaving Lance behind to fend for himself, and left him to get captured in the process.

No, nothing ever went smoothly for Keith Kogane. Had he really thought this time would be any different?

But as he rounded the corner into the familiar large room, he was immediately struck with the memories of the night before last. He remembered seeing Lance’s eyes, usually so happy and serene. But that night they were different. They were turbulent oceans in a hurricane. Every glint of the light was a flash of lightning, and Keith had been caught in the storm. 

He remembered the way Lance smiled at him, not warm, not even a hint of friendly jiving. It was malicious, and cruel, causing Keith’s blood to run cold, feeling like it had all frozen in his veins. The way his lips had curled up, contorting the scar on the corner of his mouth, would forever be etched into his vision.

His heart rate had picked up and he again felt like his skin was on fire. Just being here now was enough to trigger a panic attack, and he quickly turned on his heel and nearly jogged down the hallway. As soon as the door to the training deck was out of sight he was able to breath a sigh of relief and he continued on towards the living quarters, and to the sanctity of his own room.

So his ordeal with Lance left him a little… frazzled. So what? It’s not like he was scared of Lance or anything. He understood that something had gone wrong, something out of his control. He understood that the person that attacked him wasn’t Lance, or at least, not the same Lance. 

Something had happened to him, something during his time in Galra captivity, that made him turn like that. He didn’t know what, and he didn’t know if he’d ever know. Lance had said he remembered just before he was knocked out, but that didn’t necessarily mean that he would tell anyone, least of all him. Not now anyway.

Just as he came upon the hallway that housed all of their rooms the realization hit him that his room was right next to Lance’s. Not that it really mattered. With closed doors and walls it was like no one else was even around. But Keith didn’t know if he could deal with the idea of having Lance so close just yet. He knew he was in there, with his door locked tight doing god knows what, Keith knew Lance was just beyond the walls. 

That didn’t exactly sit well with Keith either, so again he turned, and wandered the hallways looking for somewhere to clear his head, somewhere that didn’t remind him of the former paladin at every turn.

Eventually his wandering lead him to his lion’s hangar, and he planted himself inside her cockpit without a word. 

Red nudged him, encouraging him to speak to her, but he wouldn’t even open his mouth. Too afraid of what would spill out if he did. 

He wasn’t ready to admit that perhaps he had been afraid, or that he still might be. He wasn’t ready to admit that while Lance was hugging him, his hand was gripped tightly around the handle of his bayard. He wasn’t ready to admit that it wasn’t glowing purple eyes that left an unsettling feeling in the pit of his stomach, but blue ones. And least of all, he wasn’t ready to admit that if it had been anyone else, that if Lance hadn’t been the one to nearly do him in that night, that he wouldn’t be having these fears at all. 

Lance, whom he loved. The boy at the Garrison with the smile like sunshine, with all the friends and the humor and wit. The boy he pretended not to know. The boy that left an ache in his heart and a heat in his face whenever he was around. The boy that could egg him into doing anything, that had him wrapped around his finger and didn’t even know it. Of all people, it had been Lance. 

As if the universe wasn’t done making things harder on Keith, it dropped this bombshell into his lap and left him to pick up the pieces.

-

Shiro took a deep breath and tapped softly on the door to Lance’s room. 

There was no answer; no sound from the beyond the door could be heard. But Shiro knew that Lance wouldn’t go anywhere else. Nowhere in the castle was as secure as your own room, especially if you were trying to keep people away for the sake of their own safety. 

So Shiro knocked again, and this time he could hear the rustling of sheets, and faint voice say, “Go away.”

“Lance, it’s me, please open up. I just want to talk,” Shiro spoke calmly. 

There was a moment of silence, and then, “About what?”

“Lance,” Shiro sighed, “Just open the door. I promise we don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to.” 

Silence.

“Please, Lance. I know how you must be feeling right now. I just walk to help.” he said.

Shiro heard the sound of Lance’s feet thumping down on the floor, and then the soft footfalls as he walked towards the door. It opened, and Lance stood there in an oversized t-shirt and boxer shorts, red eyes and a runny nose, looking so frail and child-like it only emphasized his youth.

“Can I come in?” Shiro asked. 

Lance sniffed and rubbed at his eyes as he stood to the side so Shiro could enter the room. Then he tapped the datapad and the door slid closed, and he made his way back to the bed where he collapsed. 

Shiro walked over to the desk on the other side of the room and pulled the chair out to sit. As he did, he noticed the cryosuit Lance had been wearing when he ran off had been balled up and thrown in the corner by the door, as if he had tossed it there angrily. 

He peered at Lance, who was motionless, gazing wistfully at the wall behind Shiro. His cheeks were red from the tears that stained them but they hadn’t stopped, only trickled now, slowly running sideways along his temple and staining the pillow beneath his head. 

“How are you feeling?” Shiro asked. He wasn’t sure what else he should be asking, or what might set Lance off; better to be safe and start small, get him talking and let him open up when he wanted to.

Lance sniffed, “I’m fine.” 

Welp, so much for small talk. It really wasn’t Shiro’s strong suit. He never really needed to beat around the bush before. Especially with Keith for a brother; he was very straightforward, Shiro had never felt the need to tip-toe around a subject. 

But Lance wasn’t like Keith, he was Lance. He was his own person with his own feelings and quirks and ways of thinking. And if Shiro wanted to help him, he was going to have to change his gameplan.

Shiro had sat backwards in the chair and now leaned forward against the back, balancing it on the two back legs and letting it rock a bit as he spoke. “When Keith was six,” he began, “He begged me for a dog. So I went to the shelter and said ‘Which one has been here the longest?’ The caretaker pointed me in the direction of this young, hyper mixed breed. To this day I couldn’t tell you what exactly he was.”  

Lance sat up with a small smile, intrigued, and regarded Shiro intently as he spoke.

“Anyway, they told me no one would adopt him since he was too energetic. Well, they didn’t know I had a brother at home that was possibly even more energetic.” Shiro winked conspiratorially, “He used to be quite the hellion.”

Lance grinned and wiped at his eyes, “Used to be?”

Shiro smiled too, “Heh, I suppose he still can be, sometimes. So, I brought this dog home, and he fell in love. He named him Ka-bar. You know, like the knife?”

Lance actually laughed at that, “Of course.”

“Keith loved that dog. They were inseparable. Wherever he would go, Ka-bar would follow. They’d play for hours and, as I predicted, Keith wore that dog out.

Anyway, one day, when Keith was outside with the dog, he accidently hit him. Apparently he had been teasing Ka-bar with one of his toys and ended up hitting him in the snout with it. Next thing I know Keith is running into the kitchen, big tears rolling down his cheeks asking ‘If you hit a dog will it die?’”

Lance covered his mouth as he snorted, “Really?”

“Yeah,” Shiro said with a laugh, “He thought that Ka-bar was going to die because he hit him. 

I looked at the dog, who naturally had followed him inside. He looked just as happy, tail wagging so hard his whole body wiggled, as ever. It hadn’t even phased him. And the toy, mind you, was stuffed. 

But Keith was distraught. His little lip was stuck out and he could barely talk through all the sniffles. I was like you, I wanted to laugh so bad. But Keith was young, and it was a real concern for him. He actually thought that if you hit a dog it would die, no matter how hard.

So I said, ‘It depends, why?’ and he said ‘Cuz’ I hit Ka-bar with his toy and I think he’s going to die.’

So I sat him down and had him tell me what happened. Then I assured him, with a straight face, that the dog wasn’t going to die. 

He was also pretty worried that the dog was mad at him, which, since the dog was right there wagging his tail he clearly wasn’t holding a grudge. But again, Keith was six, and things that are clearly discernable to adults don’t matter to a six year old.”

Lance smiled, thinking about his family back home, and his little cousins, and how absurd they could be at times. Even himself, when he was younger, had been no exception.

“The point is, Lance, sometimes we make mistakes. Sometimes things happen, beyond our control, and we hurt the ones we love in the process.” Shiro said.

Lance’s eyes went wide and he felt a heat creep up his neck and into his cheeks, “I-I don’t love Keith. I mean I do! But like.. n-not like that kind of love. Like a… a friend. He’s... my friend.”

Shiro couldn’t help but smile as Lance stammered, “Alright. If you say so. Anyway, what I’m trying to say is this: We all make mistakes, and some hurt more than others. But Mistakes are the human experience. It’s how we learn. You can’t hide yourself away for the rest of your life so you never make one again.”

Lance sighed and looked away thoughtfully through the porthole, out into void twinkling with stars and colorful clouds of nebulae. He pulled his legs up under his chin and hugged them to his chest. 

“Shiro,” he said, so quietly the older man almost didn’t hear him, “I don’t want to hurt anyone. Ever again. Especially not Keith.”

Shiro stood and crossed the room to sit down next to the boy. He placed a gentle hand on his back, and when Lance didn’t flinch away, rubbed it up and down soothingly.

“I understand, Lance. I do. Sometimes I have moments where I can’t separate reality from my nightmares, and if anyone were near me I.. well I don’t know what I might do. I don’t want to hurt anyone either, but I can’t just hide in my room and hope that it’ll all go away. I have a responsibility to my team.” he said.

Lance scoffed, “Easy for you to say, you’re still a paladin. I have no place on that team anymore.”

“Just because you aren’t a paladin doesn’t mean you’re off the team, Lance. We still need you. We’ve just been waiting for you to come back to us, in more ways than one.” Shiro reassured him with a tender smile. 

Lance’s lips quirked up into a smile as well, and he turned to look at Shiro, “Thanks.” he said. And then he sat up a little straighter and cocked his eyebrow at the older man, “Wait… did you just compare Keith to a dog?”

Shiro shrugged, “It was the only thing I could think of that might be relevant.” 

Lance laughed and Shiro ruffled his hair before he stood, “You gonna be alright?” he asked.

“Yeah… I think so. Thanks Shiro,” he said as he laid back down on his bed.

Shiro softly padded across the room and pressed his finger to the datapad for the door to open. 

Just then Lance shot up in bed, “Wait! Hang on a tick, did you just compare me to a six year old?” he exclaimed. 

“Goodnight, Lance,” Shiro said, and the doors closed behind him.


	5. Stay

For the next couple of days Lance made himself pretty scarce to Keith. To anyone else he was coming around, opening up, returning to his usual self, albeit very slowly. But to Keith he was a ghost, a phantom who disappeared as soon as he’d enter a room, avoiding him completely. He even went so far as to skip meals if it meant not being around the Red Paladin (much to Hunk’s dismay one evening when he had cooked a meal just for Lance who had bolted the second he saw Keith.)

And Keith had absolutely had it.

It was bad enough that he was getting pitying side-eyed glances from the entire team, that the tension of words left unspoken hung in the air like a thick fog. It was bad enough that he felt as though he were the barrier holding Lance back from a full recovery and that his friends might begin to resent him. 

(Not like it was his fault for any of this. It wasn’t Lance’s fault either. It was the Galra, and whatever they did to him. And Keith cursed himself for letting those monsters put a wedge between him and Lance so easily, and for letting it get to him like it did.)

But it still hurt. It hurt watching Lance run from him, leaving the room just because he entered, or opting out of things just because he was involved. And he couldn’t help but think that he had screwed up royally somehow and Lance would be lost to him forever. 

He knew he needed to clear the air with Lance, feelings be damned, he knew he had to straighten this thing out and put it behind him. But it didn’t help that whenever he did see the former paladin it was always his retreating form.

There were a few instances where he would catch a glimpse of him in the halls, always moving away from him. And yet, when he would run after him- rounding the corner in hopes to catch up- he would just be gone. Disappearing into thin air seemingly like the ghost that he had become. 

It seemed as though Lance was always one step ahead of him, and he wasn’t going to be found if he didn’t want to be. 

But that wasn’t going to deter Keith, he just had to get the leg up, surprise him, be a step ahead of him for once.

He got his lucky break a few days later.

Keith had just finished waxing Red’s claws and was headed to dinner. No doubt Lance would be skipping it, likely to have already gotten his food and retreated to his room by now. 

But just as Keith turned down the hallway he stopped in his tracks as he spotted the boy exiting the dining room with his hands in his pockets, walking  away from him casually down the hall. 

This was his chance. Lance didn’t even know he was there. He could run right up to him and there was nowhere to hide. Even if he did turn the next corner, there was no way he could just disappear from sight. He was too close and Keith had the element of surprise.

So he ran, breaking into a full sprint towards the brunette. Lance, upon hearing the slaps of Keith’s boots running towards him, turned around and narrowed his eyes at the Red Paladin before disappearing around the bend.

_ Oh no you don’t! _

Keith put on the breaks as he skidded around the corner into the next hall… only to find it empty.

“You’ve got... to be kidding me,” Keith huffed as he took a couple of steps forward, looking around for any explanation as to how Lance kept getting away.

There seemed to be none. He took a deep breath and breathed out a deflated sigh. 

He had escaped, again. Keith was beginning to really hate this cat and mouse game. But just as he was about to give up and head back towards the dining hall he felt a tug on the back of his shirt. He was yanked into a shadowy alcove he hadn’t even realized was there and slammed against the wall.

Lance loomed over him, pinning Keith against the wall with his fists bunched up in his shirt. His hard gaze made Keith shiver. Lance seemed to notice and for a split second his expression turned bleak, but then he was glaring again and gripping the fabric even tighter.

“Why are you following me?” he hissed.

Keith swallowed, “W-We need to talk,” he said, trying not to squeak.

Lance blinked as a beat went by, then said, “There’s nothing to talk about. Stop following me.”

“Yes there is!” Keith insisted, “Lance, please, this is ridiculous. Just come to dinner and-”

“No!” Lance shouted. His eyes flickered back and forth between Keith’s, his lips set in a hard, thin line. 

Keith swallowed thickly. He felt like a deer under the claws of a jaguar. 

“Just… stay away from me, Keith,” he growled, before releasing Keith’s shirt from his death grip and backing off.

Keith blinked as Lance stalked off, “Don’t think you can just scare me away!” he shouted, “What about the others?  I'm not in any more danger from you than they are."

Lance didn’t say a word, only kept walking. He might have even quickened his pace.

Keith’s hands balled into fists and he began to shake with frustration.

“I… I hate you!”

Keith regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth. That was not what he had meant to say at all. What he meant to say was that he hated that Lance wouldn’t talk to him, hated how he wouldn’t even give him the time of day. But then again, Keith never could get anything right when it came to talking. He never knew what to say or how to say it.

When it came to expressing feelings Keith was a bumbling idiot. Especially when it came to Lance.

The brunette winced and came to a halt. Keith was ready to book it the other way as soon as he turned around, fully expecting Lance to run him down. But he just looked over his shoulder, with eyes the epitome of anguish, and said, “You should.”

He turned another corner and was out of sight, gone, and Keith released the breath he’d been holding and sagged against the wall.

What had he done? He didn’t hate Lance. Far from it actually. It wasn’t Lance that attacked him, it wasn’t Lance that put the marks on his neck. He knew that, and he could differentiate.

Those blue eyes had been cold but even then that wasn’t Lance. His Lance would never look at him like that. His Lance’s eyes held warmth and ambition, not cruelty and venom. 

So he had been a bit scared, so he had reacted to Lance’s touch negatively. Could anyone blame him? No one did. No one blamed him. 

But he blamed himself. And now the rift between them was growing wider and wider and it was all his fault.

One step forward and two steps back was what Keith seemed to be good at. Perfect, now he had really screwed up. 

He walked back to the dining room slowly, trying to figure out how he was going to fix this now, or if he should even keep getting involved. It never seemed to work in his favor. 

Just his luck.

-

Lance quickly locked himself in his room and pressed his back against the door with a hand over his mouth as he choked back sobs. The tears were much harder to repress and soon he found himself sliding down the door and curling into a tight ball on the floor.

The way he confronted Keith was horrible and he felt disgusting for using the fear factor, especially so soon after the incident. But it was a necessary evil, one that needed to be done, for Keith’s sake. 

If he’d of just left him alone like he said to, just stayed away like Lance told him to, he wouldn’t have had to resort to that. Of course that didn’t make it any less vile, but he hoped it got the point across enough so that he wouldn’t have to employ that tactic again. He  _ could _ scare Keith away, and he hoped that he had.

But he was right, what he said about the others, Lance was just as much a danger to them as he was to Keith, and he didn’t have any good excuse for why he could make that discernment. 

He had already attacked Keith, and the look on his face when he touched him broke his heart so completely. And the fear that was evidence in the Red Paladin’s eyes every time they made contact was enough to shatter his very soul.

Maybe it wasn’t even about Keith’s safety at all. Maybe it was about him, and running from the hurt he caused. Maybe he just couldn’t bear to relive the horror and feel the shame that came with facing Keith. 

He must truly be vile, to commit such a heinous act and then run from the repercussions. Just like Shiro said he shouldn’t do and yet here he was, cowering in his room. He didn’t deserve to be here, and he especially didn’t deserve to call himself a part of this team. Shiro was wrong. 

Bleary eyed and exhausted, he pushed himself up and peeled his shirt and pants off before crawling into the confines of his bed. Squeezing his eyes shut he prayed to the stars for sleep to come relatively quickly that night.

-

“You’re awfully quiet, Keith,” Shiro observed over dinner. 

“Yeah, quieter than usual, and that’s saying something,” Pidge added with a smirk.

Keith pushed the alien food around the plate in front of his with his spork. Any and all appetite had left him after his encounter with Lance in the hallway. Hunk had made another great meal, and everything looked delicious, but he just couldn’t bring himself to eat. Not with the thought that Lance was probably hiding away somewhere, with intentions to avoid everyone now after what Keith had said. 

He felt sick to his stomach. And the last thing he wanted to do was give his stomach ammunition to be regurgitated later.

“Keith?”

He glanced over at the blue alien seated beside him. Snimo gazed at him with his wide, purple eyes full of concern and Keith wouldn’t admit that he was the only one, besides Lance, who he’d willingly allow to look at him like that.

Their relationship, much like he and Lance’s, had started off tumultuous at first. It was safe to say that he treated Snimo much like Lance did now; with an air of contempt and hostility.

Keith and Hunk were the last paladins that had accepted the fact that they needed a new pilot for Blue. When they both caved, understanding that they may never find Lance if they couldn’t form Voltron- and that finding him alive was more important than maintaining his paladin status- Keith retained his displeasure with the idea. He was openly hostile towards the inoffensive alien that Blue had chosen as her pilot. 

Keith hated Snimo. And he resented the others for being able to pretend it was alright that this stranger was walking around in Lance’s uniform, flying Lance’s Lion and cozying up to his friends. How dare he think he can just walk in and take the place of someone like Lance, someone so much larger than life, who had left behind shoes that could never be filled.

But Snimo, much like Lance, was tenacious and unrelenting; determined to get under Keith’s skin and not be frightened away by his callous display. And in the end they had grown close, and Keith appreciated his presence and support.

“Is this about Lance?” Snimo asked, and Keith briefly wondered if he was some sort of empath or if it really was that evident.

Keith pushed his plate away shrunk into himself, “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“I’d like to talk about it,” Pidge piped up, suddenly intrigued. 

Snimo fixed her with a hard glare.

“What?” she asked, “I don’t think now is the right time to be keeping secrets. If it’s important you need to spill it.”

Keith opened his mouth to retort, not even sure what he was going to say or if it would make any sense, but he needed to defend himself regardless. 

But before he could say anything Hunk leaned over into Pidge’s personal space, “It’s about Lance avoiding him,” he said quietly, but loud enough for the whole table to hear.

She frowned and turned to her friend, “So?”

Hunk sighed and tried again, this time with hand gestures for emphasis, “Keith is upset because Lance is avoiding him.”

Pidge squinted at Hunk, then her eyes widened with realization, “Oh- OH! Right… Sorry, Keith… I just…”

She readjusted her glasses as she looked down at her half eaten plate of goo.

“You’re worried. We all are,” Snimo said, and he smiled back at Keith.

Keith sank down a little in his chair, wondering if now was the right time to get up and leave or not.

“Speaking of Lance and secrets,” Hunk began, “Allura… what was with the hand thing with him back on the training deck that night? What actually happened?”

All eyes turned to the head of the table where Allura sat looking caught off guard. 

“The… hand thing?” she repeated. 

“Yeah, you put your hands on his head and then it looked like you got shocked or something. You even said it was static electricity. But come on, Allura, we know it wasn’t,” Pidge said, speaking around a mouthful of food goo.

Allura sighed, “I didn’t want to frighten you all at the time,” she said as she placed her spork down on her plate, “At least any more than you already were.”

“Does this have anything to do with why Coran’s been running more tests on him?” Hunk asked.

“Yes. But so far everything has come back inconclusive,” Coran answered, “Physically, there’s nothing wrong with our young friend. Save for the obvious. In fact the only notable difference is the increase in muscle mass.”

“That’ll happen in the arena,” Shiro remarked, more to himself than anyone else.

“What?” exclaimed Keith, sitting up in his chair. His knee hit the underside of the table and jostled everyone’s plates and utensils. He couldn’t care less, too focused on if he’s heard Shiro correctly or not.

Shiro opened his mouth to explain but Pidge beat him to it, “We think they made him fight in the arena… like Shiro,” she said, her voice taking on a somber tone.

“You think?” Keith growled, “What do you mean, you think?”

“Right, you weren’t there when we put him in the pod. There was just some things we noticed and… we formed a hypothesis. He can’t remember so it’s not like he can tell us,” Hunk said, gesturing with his spork.

“I thought he said he remembered,” Keith argued.

Hunk shrugged, “He may have, but he doesn’t now. Maybe only because he was fresh out of… whatever state he was in.”

Keith leaned back against the seat and crossed his arms with an angry frown, “So what else don’t I know? What are these ‘things’ you noticed?”

Hunk turned to Pidge, who swiftly turned to look at Shiro. The older man sighed and pushed his own plate away before he spoke..

“He has… what appears to be a burn in the shape of a hand on his shoulder,” Shiro said gently.

Keith furrowed his brows, “A… hand? … Like-”

“Galran,” Pidge offered, “It must have appeared after… after the incident.” she said.

Keith’s blood boiled with righteous fury and for a moment all he could see was red. He was almost sure the arms of the chair he sat in would splinter under his grip. 

He was so angry that he couldn’t even focus it on one particular thing. The Galra for whatever they did to Lance, the others for not telling him until now, himself...

But he kept his mouth shut and said nothing, and Hunk, thankfully, turned everyone’s attention back to the Altean at the head of the table.

“Allura?” he asked.

She cleared her throat before speaking, “When I touched his quintessence.. It… felt off.”

“What do you mean, off?” Pidge asked.

“It was… not his quintessence- I mean, it was but- it was different. It felt… tainted… warped, and cold,” she said as she rubbed her hands together, as if she could still feel the chill, “It was wrong.”

“But… how do you warp quintessence?” Hunk asked.

“I’m afraid we don’t know. It’s like bending the will, and such magics were banned by Alteans,” Coran replied sadly. 

“Then I can’t say I’m surprised the Galra have embraced it,” Pidge noted with a shrug.

“What about now? You’ve tried again haven’t you?” Shiro spoke up, gesturing to his head.

“I have,” Allura answered, “And while there are notable differences about his quintessence still, it’s nothing like it was that night.”

“Can you fix it?” Snimo asked, “Can you... “ he wiggled his fingers for emphasis.

Allura sighed, “As Coran said, that kind of will-bending magic was banned by Alteans.”

“I’m sure you could make an exception in this case, Princess,” Hunk snapped as he, too, began to simply push his food around on his plate, not entirely hungry anymore.

“I would. Believe me,” she said solemnly, “But I just don’t know how. Alteans were one of the only races in the entire universe who could use magic. And Zarkon has had ten thousand years to take care of the others. Finding someone who openly practices magic in the universe now is a feat within itself. Finding someone who could manipulate quintessence as well would be next to impossible.”

“But… why do that to him? What were they trying to accomplish?” Pidge asked. She looked across the table at the older man seated in front of her, “Shiro?”

Shiro gave an exasperated sigh and leaned back in his seat, “I… I don’t know, Pidge.”

The whole room fell into an uncomfortable silence and Allura glared down at her plate pensively. 

“Altea…” she began, “Is no more. And with it, it’s laws.”

That earned her a few curious stares. Keith’s interest was particularly peaked.

“What are you saying, Princess?” Coran asked, finally abandoning his own meal. 

“I’m saying that I owe it to Lance to try my hand… at fixing whatever was done to him,” she said, a solemn glint in her eye.

“But Allura, you just said you don’t know how,” Pidge argued.

“I know,” she admitted.

“It’s dangerous,” Coran added.

“... I know.”

-

Trees.

Trees everywhere.

Lance found himself in some sort of dense alien forest. The sky above was hard to see through the canopy, but Lance could tell that it was night time wherever he was. 

There might have been a moon somewhere above, but the lush leaves kept not but a few rays from reaching the forest floor. There was only enough light to see a few feet in front of you but that was it.

A twig snapped to his left and Lance didn’t even bother to look. He was already running.

Running.

Running.

What was he running from?

He didn’t know. He only knew that if he stopped running it was all over. He didn’t know how he knew that, he just knew. 

He tried to keep his footsteps as light as possible, but the panic that coursed through his veins told him to not even worry about the noise. 

Just get away. 

Get away. 

He vaulted over fallen trees and zigzagged his way through the forest as fast as his legs could carry him. He had to be far enough away now right? He had been running for so long his lungs were beginning to burn.

Just a little further.

Just a little further.

Something caught his foot, probably a vine or a root, and he staggered forward. He needed to rest, his legs were getting tired and he was liable to make a mistake out of exhaustion. 

Finally he felt like he had run far enough and Lance slipped around a particularly girthy tree, then leaned back against it as he caught his breath. 

His chest burned and his legs ached and his mouth felt like cotton but he could only rest for a moment. He couldn’t stay here, he needed to find somewhere to hide.

As his heartbeat slowed and his breathing became shallower Lance took the opportunity to turn and peer around the tree. His eyes scanned the wilderness around him, trying to pierce through the darkness to find anything out of the ordinary lurking in the shadows. 

It was so dark, and even though his vision had long since adjusted, he still couldn’t see very far.

But the forest seemed quiet, other than the ambient sounds of the native living creatures, nothing seemed amiss, and Lance allowed himself a moment of respite.

But just as suddenly as he had registered the relative quiet of the forest, it got even quieter. The noise of the nocturnal creatures no longer reached his ears, even the insects had stopped their orchestral chatter. 

Something landed softly on the ground behind him and Lance’s heart jumped into his throat. He tried to swallow it down but his gut wrenching fear kept it in place, suffocating him. 

There were tears in his eyes when he turned to look at the shadow that loomed over him. He pressed himself back against the trunk of the tree, trying to shrink as little as he could, make himself a smaller target. 

“Found you,” they said in a sing song voice.

Lance saw the glint of a blade as a weapon appeared in their hand. They drew back slightly and before he even had time to shout the blade had already sliced through his neck like butter.

Blood.

Blood.

All he could see was blood.

-

Lance sat up in bed so quickly he made himself dizzy. A shout wrenched itself from his throat before he slapped a hand over his mouth to quiet himself. The walls were thick enough that you couldn’t hear everything going on in another room, but they weren’t entirely soundproof. 

It took him awhile to calm down, even longer to stop seeing the color red every time he closed his eyes. 

He checked the clock. It wasn’t too late. He had gone to bed pretty early. But still, everyone else should be sleeping, and he could slip out to the gym and work himself into a coma for all he cared. Anything to ease the tingling in his muscles and the clutches of his nightmare.

So he threw on his clothes and stepped lightly out into the hallway. His footsteps were almost noiseless, but the emptiness of the castle hallways always did wonders with echos, so he made quick work out of leaving the living quarters and only slowed when he knew he was out of earshot of the others.

His nightmares had become increasingly more vivid since the incident and Lance was starting to consider telling someone about them. The only reason he hadn’t so far was because he didn’t think they held any pertinent information, that they were just tricks of his subconscious and trauma. 

But that seemed too real to be coincidence, too graphic to be an ordinary nightmare, too specific to be a fluke.

No, he needed to tell someone. He’d probably find Coran and talk to him about it later, after everyone woke up of course. Stars knew there was no more sleep for him that night. 

And who knew, maybe he could even help Lance figure out how to deal with them or even keep them from happening altogether. Alteans were an advanced alien civilization for crows sake, surely they must have some sort of scientific breakthrough prevention for bad dreams.

He was so desperate for a good night’s sleep. His time in the cryopod had helped significantly, resetting him per se, but it was back to business as usual once he was out as the nightmares were more relentless than before.

The hard shadows in the dim, night-simulated light seemed more ominous than before. Even his own shadow was a haunting presence that flickered in and out of existence as he walked the halls. But he just chalked it up to nerves. Who wouldn’t be jumpy after a dream like that? 

As he passed by the training deck on his way to the gym he stopped. 

Despite the circumstances, he couldn’t help but think back to way he felt in combat with Keith. Not that it had anything to do with Keith, but just that he was fighting in general. His muscles had tingled and burned in such a euphoric way. He could do as many reps of anything in the gym he wanted to and never feel the satisfaction of the way fighting made him feel.

He wrung his hands together anxiously and worried his bottom lip as he considered whether to go in or not. On the one hand it had felt so good to dance around that floor with a weapon in his hand, on the other… that’s when all hell broke loose. 

But he was alone this time. There was no one else around to hurt. And even if he did… turn… he would feel it coming on right? Like last time, the swirling cloud, the glitchy vision. He could lock down the training deck with himself inside. No one would be able to get in or out until Allura or Coran could override the system. And they’d be ready, hopefully with more of that Altean sedative.

He looked to his left, then his right, as if expecting someone to come around the corner and tell him this was a bad idea. When no one came to stop him he walked up to the doors and they opened for him.

The lights came automatically, one right after the other towards the back with a pop pop pop, until the whole room was illuminated.

Lance gravitated towards the armory and he perused the stockpile of weapons before picking a plasma rifle off the wall. He shifted it in his grip, testing the weight and feel as he walked back into the larger training room.

“Begin ranged training sequence level…” 

Oh no, what was an appropriate level? Back when they were first training the whole team was destroyed by a level one routine. He didn’t want to get his ass handed to him on the first go. But he  _ had _ to have gotten better at it by now. He was, of course, a naturally good shot. 

“Two?” he said, and he yelped as something whirred to life and ceiling tiles opened up revealing little self propelled droids that buzzed around the room like flies. 

Before Lance could even prepare himself they were already firing off laser bolts at him. Angry bees was more like it. 

He probably should have put on some kind of armor before hand. But the suit of white armor had been missing and there wasn’t any more anywhere else. At least not to his knowledge.

Lance dodged as best he could, but he supposed he wasn’t here to practice his dodging skills. He rolled to the side and finally returned fire. The little droid burst into flame and fell from its trajectory and bounced off the floor until it came to a rolling stop. Nothing left but a smashed and smoking husk.

Alright, one down, four to go.

Surprisingly, Lance was able to down the rest with little more effort. And when the last one landed, smouldering on the floor, he frowned. 

He didn’t feel anything. His muscles didn’t sing, didn’t tingle. He wasn’t even loose yet.

“Level 3?” he said. 

This time he was ready when the bots dropped from the ceiling. Seven of them assumed their angry hive formation and peppered the floor with laser bolts meant for Lance. They were avoided easily as Lance danced around them and returned his own laser fire. Soon the seven new droids joined the rest of their demolished brethren. 

“Level… 5,” Lance said.

Ten angry training bots dropped from the ceiling. Their laser fire was more intense and sporadic, forcing Lance stay aware and keeping him on his toes.

But just like the last batch, they were inevitably destroyed, and Lance was only just now breaking a sweat. 

“Level 8,” Lance commanded, and he jumped into action even before some of the droids could leave the sanctuary of their ceiling homes, blasting them to pieces before they even had a chance to fire on him. 

There were so many and they were moving so fast Lance couldn’t even count them. 

It was like a laser light show. Lance smiled at that, imaging some pulsing music to go along with the performance. He imagined he even looked pretty cool as he ducked, dodged and danced around them, and providing his own fire into the mix.

“Dim lights,” he said with a smirk. Not all the way off, he wasn’t that reckless. But just enough that the glow of the lasers were exaggerated. And Lance had to admit. It did look really cool and added to the thrill.

He allowed himself a brief rest before the next sequence, and the cleaning droid to remove the carcasses off the battlefield. One quick breather and then he was back at it. 

Level 12. He knew he shouldn’t be jumping levels like this, it was bound to get dangerous very quickly. But he couldn’t help himself. It felt so good.

His muscles were finally singing again, burning in that good way that he craved but never could satisfy. It was like the greatest physical pleasure he’d ever felt. Better than… well better some pleasures he had formerly enjoyed.

Was he just saying that because it had been a while? Maybe. But there was no denying how good this was, and he kicked himself for not doing it sooner. 

He blasted the final droid as it flew overhead and it came hurtling towards him. He jumped and threw his leg out and kicked it out of the air like a soccer ball. It whizzed across the room and made a horrible metallic crunch against the far wall. Lance grinned as it too joined the growing number of fallen brothers.

He was finally panting, hunched over with a hand on his knee. Then he stood and wiped some sweat from his brow before he was calling on another training sequence.

“Level-”

“End training sequence!” someone called.

The whirring sound died down as the sequence ended and Lance whipped around to see Keith standing just inside the doorway.

“Are you crazy?” Keith began as he started towards Lance, “You can’t just jump levels like that!”

“How long have you been there?” Lance asked, a little embarrassed that Keith might have been watching him the whole time.

“Especially in the dark!” Keith continued as he gestured to the dim lights.

Lance turned away and huffed, “It’s not that dark.”

“It’s dangerous!” Keith yelled.

“I had it under control!” Lance bellowed.

Keith was in his face now, glaring up at the brunette who was glaring right back down at him. 

What was he even doing here and what did he want? Lance thought he made it very clear he wanted to be left alone. Even if Keith were here to train in the middle of the night himself, which was probably true, he could have seen it was occupied and left. 

But no, he had to crash Lance’s party. Lance didn’t even hear him come in. But then again he was too busy having fun with his laser light show battlefield to notice much else. 

“Raise lights,” Keith prompted without looking away, and immediately the lights illuminated to one hundred percent.

Lance blinked away the brightness, casting his gaze downward for a moment to adjust.

“See? It was too dark,” Keith said as he ripped the plasma rifle out of Lance’s grip before he could protest. Lance glared at Keith’s retreating form as he made his way over to the armory, presumably to put his weapon away.

“I had it under control,” Lance said again, mumbling under his breath. 

As Keith came back Lance turned just in time to see him tossing the familiar polearm his way. He caught the glaive out of the air and stared wide eyed at Keith, who activated his own bayard and assumed a fighting stance in front of him.

“Wh-What are you doing?” Lance stuttered. 

“ _ We _ are going to spar,” Keith answered simply. 

Lance blinked, shocked to say the least. Who was the crazy one now? Come in here and tell him  _ he’s _ crazy and it’s dangerous the way  _ he _ trains but then he wants to spar? Again? With Lance? 

“No, Keith,  _ we _ are not doing this,” Lance refused, and he turned and made to take the weapon back to the armory but Keith jumped in front of his path with his weapon pointed right at him.

“Yes, we are,” Keith asserted.

Lance scoffed and walked forward till the tip of the blade was touching his chest.

“No, we’re not,” he said again, then swatted the blade away and sidestepped Keith as he continued forward.

He was just about inside the armory when Keith yelled at him, “I’ll put this room on lockdown!”

Lance stilled, then turned to see the Red Paladin standing next to the control panel on the far wall with his hand hovering threateningly above the touchpad.

Quiznack. Well that would be a pickle, now wouldn’t it? 

Lance narrowed his eyes and huffed, “You wouldn’t.”

“Think I won’t? Wouldn’t bother me any. You, on the other hand I think it would bother greatly,” Keith argued. 

Lance folded his arms across his chest, “Why? Why are you doing this?”

“Because you won’t talk to me,” Keith explained, “You run from me. You won’t even look at me for more than a split tick.” 

Lance turned away to gaze dejectedly at the floor.

“See? You always do that!” Keith spat.

Lance growled and turned his whole body around, facing away from the Red Paladin. He was really being put on the spot here.

He had figured Keith would be all for this. Lance avoiding him that is. He wouldn’t have to listen to Lance’s snarky remarks, his jabs at his mullet, his flirtations and boasting. He figured Keith would take to Lance avoiding him like a fish to water. Especially now…

He didn’t blame Keith for his adverse reaction when he came out the pod. He’d of been pretty wary of himself too. In fact, he was very wary of himself. Which is why he’d been avoiding Keith in the first place. 

So why… why did he care if Lance kept his distance?

“Well?” Keith said.

Lance sighed and turned back to him, “Keith this is ridiculous you can’t jus-”

“Ah bup bup, you spar with me now or I press this button and lock us both in here till the others find us in the morning. And even then it’s a matter of time till they realize we’re missing and they might not even check here first,” Keith demanded, his hand lowering slowly to the touchpad. 

Lance set his jaw as he glared at the Red Paladin, holding his hand over the data pad- and with it all the cards. He thought perhaps Keith was bluffing, but then again Keith didn’t bluff. He was content to force Lance’s hand, and Lance had been dealt a bad hand it seemed. 

“Fine,” Lance finally spat, and he returned to the center of the room with weapon in hand, still glaring daggers at Keith. 

“Deal?” Keith said.

Lance sighed again, “Deal.”

Keith finally took his hand away from the touchpad and kept a wary eye on Lance as he came to stand with him in the middle of the room. 

He wasn’t going to lie, Lance did think about bolting. Just a little closer. Lance could outrun him. Make it to the door and be gone before he was halfway to the console. Just a little closer.

But he never did. He wasn’t sure if it was out of respect or stubbornness, but he stayed put.

Keith came to a stop just a few yards away and promptly crouched into a fighting stance, bayard at the ready and pointed right at Lance. Lance did the same, though half-heartedly, preparing to do nothing more than block and parry Keith’s attacks. He didn’t trust himself to do more. 

Here they were, not even a week after the incident and Keith was foolishly egging Lance on again. 

Lance knew Keith wasn’t the brightest bulb, he wasn’t exactly a valedictorian back at the Garrison. The only high marks he made were in the pilot program. Anything else was average at best. But he would have thought Keith would be smarter than this. 

This was foolhardy and reckless. But then again Keith was foolhardy and reckless. And if he was being honest, while sometimes it wasn’t the greatest way to be, Lance wouldn’t have it any other way. 

It was absurd to think that Keith would listen to reason, he knew that now. Tell him not to do something and he’d go out of his way to make sure he did. Tell him he couldn’t do something and he was going to prove you so very wrong. 

That was his Keith. 

Speaking of his Keith, he finally made the first move and lunged at Lance, and they began their dance. 

As expected, Keith came on fiercely. And once again, Lance was on the defense. Only this time he was very much more in control.

Where before Keith had him on the ropes from the very beginning, Lance felt as if he were more in the lead today, even while being on the defensive.

He let him come, backing away in calculating movements as the Red Paladin hacked away at the haft of the glaive. Never once did he deliver an attack of his own, and it wasn’t long before Keith realized what was going on.

“Are you going to fight back?” he growled indignantly, slamming his weapon down on Lance’s in a frustrated rage. 

Lance braced for the attack, the haft taking the brunt of the blow, then he deflected Keith’s blade to the floor with a graceful twist of the polearm. 

“We agreed to spar, you didn’t say anything about fighting back,” Lance grunted as he danced backwards. 

Keith roared as he bounded towards Lance, a fiery glint in his eye, determined to force the former paladin on the offensive. The sword cut through the air furiously as Lance ducked to avoid it, then he rolled out of the way when Keith backtracked.

“Fight back!” Keith howled as he ran after Lance.

“What will it prove if I do?” Lance snapped, sidestepping Keith’s blade.

Keith stilled for a moment, huffing from exhaustion as he glared at Lance, “That you’re not as dangerous as you think you are.”

“I’m not-” Lance scoffed and tried to bite back his anger, but it bubbled inside of him like a shaken can of soda. What about any of this did he not understand? “You don’t know anything!” he shouted, “Nobody knows anything because I can’t remember anything! For all we know I’m a ticking time bomb waiting to go off!”

Keith’s expression fell into one of regret. He always knew how to push too far.

“Lance,” he began, but he was interrupted before he could continue further.

“No! You know what?” Lance tossed the glaive aside bitterly and it clanged and clattered as it bounced off the floor, “I’m not doing this anymore. Put the room on lockdown for all I care. I’m done.”

Keith grit his teeth, brows furrowing in a hard glare at the other boy. He was never one to keep a cool head in a heated situation, and the anger was infectious.

“I wouldn’t have made you do this if you’d just talk to me,” he spat, arms gesturing wildly.

“Talk to you!?” Lance practically screamed, throwing his own arms into the air, “There is  _ nothing _ to talk about, Keith! I hurt you I-” 

Lance paused, feeling the weight of the words on his tongue. His eyes began to ache as he fought back the urge to shed any more tears. It seemed like all he did was cry these days and he was really, really tired of it.

“I tried to kill you, Keith. And when the others came I tried to kill them too. I… I came out of it and I was standing over Shiro, ready to rip his arm off,” He took a deep, shaky breath before continuing, “And I remember… the look in your eyes when I came out of the pod. It crushed me… You were so…”

Lance wiped at his mouth with the back of his arm and sniffled, looking off into the distance of the room, anywhere but at Keith and those sad eyes. 

“I put those marks around your neck… and I… I can’t…” he croaked, “I can’t do that again… I won’t let myself.” 

Keith deactivated his bayard, clipping it back onto his belt, and walked up to Lance slowly.

Lance’s eyes caught the movement and flitted to him, and he took an instinctive step back. His eyes were wide and unblinking, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to spill over, “K-Keith..” 

“Stop, please,” Keith whispered as he continued to diminish the space between them.

Lance halted and let him come closer. Keith stared right at him and he couldn’t help but eye the remnants of the markings on Keith’s neck, not yet all faded away. 

“My eyes are up here,” Keith ribbed with a slight smirk as he stopped in front of the former paladin. 

Lance tore his gaze away from Keith’s throat. He blinked, and that’s when the tears came streaking down his cheeks. Keith brought one hand up to cup his cheek and wiped the tears away with his thumb and Lance Instinctively leaned into it. 

In any other circumstance he might have been embarrassed at his openly emotional display, and even more so by the effect Keith’s touch was having on him. But he was tired. Tired of running. Tired of being alone and cold. The simplest pleasures are prized to those who are starving.

Another thumb swiped across his cheek and he looked at Keith through tired, half-lidded eyes.

“I’m so sorry, Keith. I… I wasn’t…” he said softly.

“That’s just it, Lance. It wasn’t you. You didn’t do any of that. You wouldn’t,” Keith said. 

Keith’s blue-grey eyes gazed up at him so softly, yet to intensely. It sent a pang of dread through him, that Keith could still look at him like that after all he’d done; after putting his hands on him in the manner he had. 

He grasped Keith gently by his wrist and made to remove his hand from his face. He was reluctant for the warmth to leave him but he knew he didn’t deserve such commodities. 

“Keith, I don’t trust myself to-”

“Then trust us,” Keith said, bringing both hands up now to cradle Lance’s face in in them, “Trust us… that we are going to help you. Whatever this is, whatever is going on, trust that we won’t abandon you. I… won’t abandon you.”  _ Not again... _

That did it. The floodgates were open. Lance’s bottom lip began to quiver and he immediately surged forward and threw his arms around Keith, crying against his shoulder. The feeling of Keith’s arms around him as he returned the embrace made him sob and he stepped even closer, chasing that warmth. 

It must have knocked Keith off balance somehow, because he felt himself beginning to tip forwards.

“L-Lance?” 

He was too tired, too caught up in the emotion to care. Keith was too warm and falling into his arms felt too good.  

He did make an effort, though, to keep Keith from getting hurt. His knee connected with the hard surface of the training deck as he tried to negate some of the impact, and he put a hand behind his head to steady him as they fell to the floor. 

Lance buried his face once again in the crook of Keith’s neck. Quiet sniffles and whimpers and the occasional soothing whisper from Keith echoed softly around the training deck. Keith’s fingers gently carded through the sweat dampened hair at the nape of his neck while Lance clung desperately to his shoulders.

“Keith…” Lance whined.

“Shhh, It’s okay,” Keith murmured.

Lance was content to lay there forever, and Keith was content to let him. But eventually they were going to have to get up, make their ways back to bed, better sooner than later. 

It was safe to say they still had a few hours before the day-cycle of the castle took over and they’d have to be up with the rest of them. When Keith had left his room it was still relatively early in the night. Finding Lance took a bit longer than expected, as he wasn’t where Keith pegged he might be. But their brief sparring session hadn’t lasted long at all and it was probably best it hadn’t.

After a minute or so, when Lance has finally calmed down enough, Keith cleared his throat gently to get the boy’s attention. Lance picked his head up slowly and met Keith’s gaze with his red and puffy eyes. 

“We should probably hit the showers and get some shut eye,” Keith suggested as he wiped the last of the tears off Lance’s face.

“Yeah,” Lance said as he propped himself on one elbow and rubbed his eyes, “Guess we should.”

Lance pushed himself up on his hands and started stand before he froze and gave Keith a strange look.

Keith frowned, “What?”

“Something’s wrong,” Lance said.

“What do you mean something’s wrong?” Keith asked.

“My leg… it won't move,” Lance answered.

Keith looked down in between them. He guessed it was the leg that was bent, the knee jammed into the floor beside Keith’s thigh, the one that had broken their fall. 

He looked back up at Lance, who only grinned sheepishly down at him. 

“Well, can you stand?” Keith asked. 

“I mean,” Lance shifted his weight to his other knee as he scooched his leg forward, “You might have to help me walk.”

He smiled at Keith again, hovering over him on his hands and knees. Keith stared up at him, feeling the beginning of a faint blush creep up his neck. 

When was the last time Lance smiled like that? Really, truly smiled? It looked so good, so natural on his face. Keith would do anything to keep it there. 

“Are you okay?” Lance asked.

Keith blinked, “What? … Yeah! Yeah I’m fine, so can you stand or what?”

Lance carefully pushed himself up onto his one working leg and offered Keith a hand. He took it, and Lance hauled him to his feet with ease before throwing his arm around Keith’s neck. 

“So, shall we?” Lance suggested, a soft smirk playing on his lips.

Keith rolled his eyes and took Lance around the waist before they both hobbled out of the training deck.

Showering was awkward. Both boys had decided to use the public facility, seeing as it would be quicker and easier for Keith to help Lance where needed. A couple of near slips and some awkward wardrobe malfunctions later, and waiting for Lance to finish his night time skin routine, and Keith had Lance back in his room where he dumped the brunette back onto his bed. 

“Oof! Oh, so you like it-”

“In the morning I’ll come get you for breakfast, then we can have Hunk take a look at that leg. You won’t run from me when I get here will you?” Keith said, then he frowned, “I’m sorry, were you saying something?”

Lance rubbed his neck nervously, then winced when he accidently touched the burned handprint, “No, no… nothing. Don’t worry about it. And no, no more running I swear.”

Keith’s frown grew deeper, “Should you… put something on that?”

He had tried not to look at it in the showers, afraid that he might go into a fit of rage at the very idea that the Galra, quite literally, left their mark on Lance. Like they claimed him or something, like they owned him. 

He shook the thoughts from his head and took a deep breath. Now was not the time be angry about it. 

“Oh, yeah,” Lance leaned over and popped open a compartment beside his bed and withdrew a tub of some kind of cream, “Coran gave me this ointment to put on it. Kinda early to tell if it’s doing anything, but it smells nice.” he said with a smile.

“Do you want me to…” Keith ventured. Then he kicked himself for even suggesting it. Of course Lance didn’t need him for that. What kind of weird question was that?

“I mean, if you want to. My arms are pretty sore actually, it would help a lot,” Lance said. Then he handed the tub to Keith and pulled his shirt over his head.

The scar tissue was raised around the palm of the hand, where most of the pressure of a hand would rest, extending down into long fingers. The thumb rested just on the back of the shoulder, curved slightly upward on the slope of his neck. And purple. It was all purple.

Keith had to calm himself one more time before he sat down. Deep breaths. In and out. He couldn’t even begin to imagine how Lance must have reacted to seeing it for the first time. Lance, who took great pride in self care and the health and complexion of his skin, marred and marked by the Galra. He didn’t think Lance was vain in any way, but it must have come as quite a horrible revelation. 

Keith dipped the tip of his fingers into the cream and applied it to the burn, rubbing his shoulder gently. Lance gasped and shuddered as it touched his skin. Goosebumps appeared on his arms and back, up to the nape of his neck. 

“That feels good,” he hummed. Then his eyes flew open wide and he stuttered as he tried to backtrack, “Th-The cream. It’s… it feels good.”

Keith smiled and dipped his fingers into the cream again before applying a bit more, making sure to get all the way down the finger marks. 

When he was done he screwed the cap on tightly and handed the tub back to Lance, who stowed it away back in the compartment by his bed. 

“Need anything else?” Keith said as he rose from the bed.

“N-No, that’s it. Thank you. For… everything,” Lance answered. 

Keith smiled and nodded, then walked across the room and pressed the button on the data pad that turned out the light before stepping through the door.

“Night,” Keith threw back at the boy.

“Night,” Lance muttered back. 

As soon as the door shut behind Keith, Lance’s room was bathed in darkness. It was heavy and unsettling and the dread willed its way back into a tight coil in his gut.

He was immediately reminded of why he had gotten up in the first place, the nightmare that had shaken him awake, the one he was trying to forget in the first place.

Every time he blinked he could see it. Vividly. The darkness. The forest. The little soft trickle of starlight through the porthole reminded him of the murky moonlight through the trees.

The fear was gripping him tighter and tighter like monstrous tendrils, curling and constricting around him. 

His breathing picked up. In the silence he could hear his own heavy pants and his heart pounding in his ears. It was so quiet and yet so loud at the same time. 

He looked around frantically, the shadows playing tricks on him, jumping around in his peripheral vision, stalking him in his own room.

Eyes. The glowing eyes.

He expected to see them everywhere he turned. Pouncing out of the darkness to finish him off.

The voice echoed in his head, “Found you.” Playful and melodic, yet malicious and dripping with venom and depravity.

He could have sworn it was there with him, whispering into his ear, and he gasped.

“K-Keith!” he called out, his voice was hoarse and he wasn’t even sure if Keith heard him.

The footfalls of Keith’s boots getting louder outside said that he did and the door hissed open. 

“What? What is it?” he huffed. 

The soft light from the hallway pulled Lance out of his haze and he gawked at Keith as he stood in the doorway. It must have only been a few seconds, but to him it felt more like minutes. Lance bit his lip and lowered his gaze, suddenly very embarrassed. Keith probably hadn’t even made it to his own door before Lance was calling out for him. 

_ Pathetic. _

“What is it? Are you alright?” Keith repeated, moving slightly further into the room.

“Yeah, I’m uh… Could you… um…” Lance swallowed the lump in his throat before trying to continue, “Maybe… stay…?”

Keith blinked at him.

“With me?” he clarified, “Tonight?”

There was no answer, he only stared at Lance with an unreadable expression. Lance wasn’t sure if that was supposed to be good or bad.

He licked his lips. Anxiety coiled tight in his stomach and he worried he had crossed a line. Of course Keith wouldn’t wanna stay with him. Keith. The loner. Who didn’t need anybody. Didn’t want anybody. 

Who was he to even ask such a ridiculous favor?

He shook his head, “You know what? Nevermind, just forge-”

“Yeah, if you want me to.”

Lance deadpanned, “W-What?”

The door closed again as Keith entered the room and came to stand in front of Lance, “If you want me to, I can stay.”

“Y-You don’t have to… if you don’t… ” Lance muttered.

Keith huffed and made a shooing motion with his hand, “Just scoot over and give me some room.”

Lance made quick work of his jeans and dove under the covers of the bed, scootching close to the back wall to give Keith enough space to lay down. It was a tricky maneuver with his malfunctioning leg, but he managed.

“I don’t take up that much room,” Lance explained.

“You?” Keith asked as he sat down and pulled his boots off, “String bean? I’m surprised you even fit.”

“I am not a string bean!” he cried indignantly. Then he flexed an arm and poked at the muscle that popped out from under the skin, “Does this look stringy or beany to you?”

Keith rolled his eyes, but smiled nonetheless, “Yeah, yeah, He Man. Just lay down.”

Lance lay on his side as Keith slid in and laid facing him. 

Silence fell between them, but it wasn’t defending. The darkness was heavy but it wasn’t constricting. Keith’s warmth beside him was a constant reminder that he was here, this was real. 

“Is this okay?” Keith asked after a few moments.

Lance’s eyes landed on the face in front of him where he had been scanning the shadows. Keith’s eyes were open and he was looking right at him. 

Lance frowned and squirmed, “Yeah um… could you… stop staring at me?” he asked shyly.

Keith brows furrowed in confusion, “It’s pitch black in here. I can’t even see you.”

“Well I can see you and you’re staring right at me,” Lance said, his tone a bit sharper than he intended.

“Hey, you’re the one that wanted me to stay. If it makes you that uncomfortable I can just go,” Keith said. 

He sat up on the bed and made to turn over and swing his legs over the side when Lance’s hand caught him by the shoulder in a tight grip.

“No, please, don’t go!” his voice cracked and Keith froze.

He had never heard Lance sound so desperate before, so unsure of himself and afraid. 

Of course there had been moments when Lance expressed fear and unease. Before everything happened, on missions. In fact, there had been times where Lance’s unease had saved them from walking into traps where Keith would have gone barreling in.

But this was different. This wasn’t just caution, this was terror. Keith could hear it in the waver of his voice. If he could see his face, it would surely be pulled into an expression of fear. 

Slowly he laid down on his back, “Okay, I’m sorry. I won't.” 

The hand on his shoulder eased only slightly.

“Lance… did something happen?” he coaxed.

Lance was quiet for a moment, contemplative. He worried his bottom lip trying to decide if his fear was justified enough to talk about it, or just ridiculous after-dream jitters. 

“Lance?”

“I had a nightmare,” he blurted. 

Now it was Keith’s turn to be silent, gazing at him, patiently waiting for him to continue.

“Well, I actually… have them a lot… but this one was… it was... “ he trailed off and licked his lips, then laughed nervously, “It’s pretty stupid huh? It was just a dream… I don’t know why I’m making such a big deal out it.”

His smile turned downwards and he was about to turn over when he felt Keith take his hand.

“It’s not stupid. I’m pretty sure Shiro has nightmares too and they’re probably terrifying. I can’t even begin to imagine. I wouldn’t blame him for being scared, would you?”

“Of course not!” Lance argued.

“Then what makes you think you’re any different?” Keith asked. 

Lance didn’t answer. There was nothing to say. Keith was right, he supposed. Even if he did still feel a bit ridiculous. Dreams were just that: dreams. They weren’t real, no matter how real they sometimes felt. Being scared of a dream just felt silly and childish. 

Keith gave his hand a squeeze, “You’re allowed to be afraid. Just know that you don’t have to feel alone. We’re all here for you.”

Lance smiled, even if Keith couldn’t see it, “Thanks, man.”

“Anytime,” Keith smiled back, “Now get some sleep.”

Lance closed his eyes and settled down on the pillow; their hands still clasped together and showing no signs of either of them letting go. 

“Yeah,” he sighed, “You too.”


	6. Hunter

Waking up in someone else's bed, let alone with someone’s arms wrapped around him, wasn’t something Keith thought he’d ever have to get used to. It was far easier for him to get used to his dusty, desert shack, or the idea of hurtling through space millions of lightyears away from Earth, than the idea of sharing a bed with someone. Especially when said someone was the object of his long-felt affection.

Not that Keith hadn’t had a plethora of partners to choose from during his time at the Garrison- there was always someone, it seemed, all too willing to follow him back to his dorm. But it had never been important to him, never something he really considered. Love wasn’t something he thought he’d ever need in life, until he met Lance.

He’d never forget the first time he had seen the brunette boy; in the mess hall during lunch hour. Keith had been making his way to his next class, trying to beat the bell and the rush of students crowding the halls, when the sound of laughter had caught his attention.

It was a whimsical chuckle, airy and care-free, and it belonged to the most beautiful boy Keith had ever laid eyes on.

His chest tightened and something in his stomach fluttered madly as he leaned against a brick pillar and watched the boy from a distance. At first he had thought there was something wrong with him, perhaps his lunch hadn’t sat well in his gut and was threatening to come back up, and he should to head to the infirmary asap. But he couldn’t leave, let alone look away from the boy as he carried on an enthusiastic conversation with someone he would later come to know as Hunk.

The bell rang signaling the end of the lunch period, and the brunette turned and briefly they locked eyes with each other. The boy smiled sweetly, and Keith felt his soul ascend before he was being knocked this way and that by the horde of students scrambling to their next classes.

That was the first time Keith had ever felt something of a fondness for someone other than his brother. And for the longest time he was afraid he had screwed up any opportunity to act on those feelings and explore anything further.

Until now.

Lance didn’t always ask Keith to stay with him, and sometimes there would be days on end, maybe a week at a time, where they would both go to bed alone. Sometimes, however, Keith would wake in the middle of the night to find Lance in his room; silent, stony-faced, only a hand on the his shoulder to indicate that he was there. Keith would always throw the covers back, welcoming him, to which Lance would crawl in next to him without a word.

He had no idea how the former paladin had gotten past the lock on the door the first few times it had happened- it had given Keith quite a fright to find a figure looming over him in the dark- but in the middle of the night he was too tired to ask, and during the day it slipped his mind, so he simply just began leaving the door unlocked.

Lance never spoke- never uttered a word in those moments. Keith chalked it up to the nightmares that plagued him, the ones that prompted him to come to the Red Paladin’s room in the first place. Lance never talked about them, even during the day cycle when he was far more articulate. Keith had asked once but was only met with a change in subject, to which he resigned himself to wait until the boy was ready and would initiate the conversation on his own time.

The instances when Lance would ask Keith to stay with him, though, Lance was far more chatty; a complete opposite of the silent shadow that would lurk into Keith’s room at night seeking comfort from his dreamscape horrors.

This Lance would talk with Keith for ages, well into the day-cycle hours if he could; sharing stories of home and family shenanigans, antics he and his older brother had gotten up to.

“He got me in a lot of trouble sometimes. But he’d always get me out. He was something else, I want you to meet him when we get back,” Lance had said, “That’s where I got my jacket from. He gave it to me before he went off to college.”

“You… You want me to meet your family?” Keith asked incredulously.

“Yeah, why not? You and Shiro, Pidge, Hunk, Allura and Coran too. You’re like my space family,” Lance replied as if it was common knowledge.

Keith cocked his eyebrow and gave Lance a sly smile, to which the brunette huffed snidely.

“Fine… And Snimo I suppose,” he folded.

Keith chuckled and gave him a playful nudge, “You’re warming up to him.”

Lance pouted and turned to lay on his back with his arms crossed rigidly, “Am not.”

“Are too,” Keith teased as he dug his fingers into Lance’s ribs and began to tickle him relentlessly.

“Stop!” Lance wailed. He howled with laughter as he desperately tried to escape the onslaught of Keith’s assault.

“Do you admit defeat?” Keith asked as he continued to taunt the boy.

“Yes! Yes, please stop!” Lance pleaded. The smile on his face betrayed his torment.

Keith ceased and slowly the laughter died as they both settled back down.

“But seriously,” Lance spoke up, and he turned to the Red Paladin, “When all this is over, and we go back… will… We’ll still be friends, right?”

Keith’s eyebrows furrowed but he smiled nonetheless, “Yeah, why wouldn’t we be?”

“It’s just that,” Lance began, then he started to ramble, “It’s easy to stay friends with someone when you see them all the time. Like we’re stuck on this giant castle ship together. But when we go back… things will change. People change, or they move away, and when you’re not around someone as often it’s harder to keep in contact and slowly you start to drift apart to the point where you don’t even know if you’d consider that person your friend anymore. They’re just someone who used to be in your life and-”

Keith gave Lance’s arm a gentle rub, effectively silencing the former paladin, “Do you really think I’d forget you?”

Lance shrugged, “N-No, I just…”

“I couldn’t even if I wanted to. And when we get back, I’d love to meet your family,” Keith said.

“Really?” Lance asked.

Keith nodded.

The former paladin yawned wide before giving him a lazy grin “I can’t wait. You’ll like them.”

Keith smiled too, “I’m sure.”

He didn’t know what they had between them, what this was that they were doing. He tried to tell himself it was a service to a comrade, a comfort he could afford to a friend in need.

But sometimes, in the way Lance would look at him, smile at him, touch him- sometimes in the mornings when Keith would wake up to long arms wrapped around his middle and a nose nuzzling into the hair at the back of his neck- he wondered if Lance, too, wanted more.

-

Lance never wanted to overstep his bounds, knowing Keith wasn’t much on affection or tenderness. He didn’t want to annoy the Red Paladin, or overstay his welcome. But whenever he dragged himself out of his own bed to solicit Keith’s company, the raven-haired boy would always oblige and never once turned him away.

It was strange, Lance’s entire outlook on Keith had changed in just a couple of weeks. When before he had thought of the boy as rude and standoffish, he was getting to know a whole new side of him he never thought existed.

First of all, Keith could smile. And wow what a smile it was! The kind of smile that would reach his eyes and make him look so tender that Lance would practically melt.

And he could laugh! At jokes, no less! And it was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard in the entire universe.

Keith was so open and inviting, a far cry from how he had acted back at the Garrison, and it was new and exciting and Lance never thought in his wildest dreams that he and the Red Paladin could become so close.

But Lance, still, was careful; afraid he might overdo it. Among other things.

What they had was a good thing, and he was grateful to the Red Paladin. He knew his inclination would only complicate matters and make their relationship awkward, and Keith might stop letting him come around. And as much as he didn’t want that for the sake of his sleep, he also didn’t want to risk the closeness they now shared.

There were times, though, when he couldn’t be sure; when he’d wake up with a faceful of dark curls and feel goosebumps prickle on Keith’s skin. Or when he’d return one of Lance’s smiles so sweetly that he’d go weak in the knees. In those instances, Lance was almost sure that the pining he felt for the Red Paladin could have been mutual. That maybe he had a chance...

Or maybe it was just wishful thinking.

Regardless, he was grateful to Keith and grateful to all of his friends that were so supportive of and ready to lend a hand to him. Despite the circumstances of his trauma at the hands of the Galra, the nightmares that haunted his sleep, and the seemingly unrequited feelings he was beginning to redevelop for the Red Paladin, he was happy.

Everything was starting to return to normal. Better than normal. He and Keith would train together regularly, at the least once a day, and it wasn’t uncommon for Shiro to show up and give them both a challenge.

Even Snimo, who had essentially replaced him and stolen his lion, was beginning to weasel his way into Lance’s good graces.

And the quintessence healing sessions with Allura were going well... for the most part.

It was hard for either of them to glean whether or not she was making any headway, and it wasn’t like he felt any different after each time. But he trusted in Allura and her abilities.

It had taken him some time to warm up the idea, especially after she informed him of how dangerous it could potentially be for the both of them. But he was confident in her and her proficiency in magic, so after some gentle nudging by his friends and a reassuring smile from Keith, he finally caved.

It wasn’t a painful procedure, but it wasn’t exactly a pleasant one either. Her energy coursing through his body felt like static electricity arcing under his skin and it made him feel itchy and uncomfortable. But other than the strange sensation he felt during their sessions- one that did lessen over time- things went pretty smoothly.

And it did give him and Allura more time to bond, themselves.

Hunk and Pidge had even retro-engineered a suit for him from the paladin armor, and they surprised him with it just before a big mission.

Everyone had gotten their orders and were about to be dismissed when Shiro turned to him.

“And Lance,” he said, just as the boy was about to turn away and follow Coran to the bridge, “Suit up. You’re with me.”

“Uhhh,” Lance deadpanned and glanced around at the others, thinking maybe Shiro had misspoken, “I think you meant… someone else.”

“No, Lance, I meant you,” Shiro affirmed. Then he placed a gentle hand on Lance’s shoulder, “We need everyone on this one. I need you with me.”

Lance bit his bottom lip and nervously fumbled with one of the strings on his hood, “Shiro… I don’t know…” he said tepidly.

“I do,” The Black Paladin persisted, “I meant it when I said you were still part of this team. We need you. You’re more than ready to get back out there.”

Lance frowned, “Shiro… I’m…” then he swallowed thickly and started again, “I don’t even have any armor.”

“That won’t be a problem,” Hunk answered from behind him.

It was then that the two presented him with a set of white armor laid out for him on a table like a showcase. It looked to have been inspired by the paladin armor they all wore, with subtle variations that made it look sleeker in design. Even the black undersuit seemed to have been altered a bit.

“Smaller, slimmer, but just as much protection. And these grey areas in the flight suit? Think of it as like kevlar, but like… thinner, stronger, space kevlar. Flexible, yet durable, perfect for stealth,” Hunk explained, puffing his chest with pride.

“Stealth?” Lance asked quizzically, looking up as he set the suit on the table by the armor.

Pidge nodded and adjusted her glasses, “Given your new abilities it seemed the best fit. Your agility won’t be compromised, not like it would be in our armor. There’s more range of motion. Less restrictive.”

“But it’s white,” Lance argued, “I’ll stick out like a sore thumb in this, won’t I?”

“I thought you might say that,” Pidge replied with a smirk, then she ran her finger over the chest plate as she explained, “We coated the finish in a special, matte-like polymer that absorbs light. Wherever you are, you can essentially chameleon to what’s around you. You won’t ‘blend in’ per se, but it’ll definitely be harder to notice. I don’t think anyone’s gonna see you unless you want them to.”

“Also, we couldn’t exactly make you your own bayard, but with Coran’s help, and a little bit of Allura’s magic, we were able to craft you these,” Hunk said as he held the two handguns up for Lance to see, “And when you place them together, they form this long rifle.”

The Yellow Paladin demonstrated the process for him, transforming the two pistols into a rifle as he pushed them together. He handed the laser-arm to Lance with another proud smile as the brunette gawked.

“And to reverse it, you just… kinda pull, and they’re pistols again,” Hunk explained further.

Lance tugged on the gun in opposite directions and, just as Hunk had told him, two pistols manifested in each of his hands.

Lance’s eyes were wide, and his face ached from the smile plastered on it. So what if he didn’t have his own bayard? This was just as cool- if not cooler- than having one.

“This is… How did… When did you guys do all this?” he stammered, his voice cracking with emotion.

“Eh, you know, in our free time,” Hunk answered with a sly shrug.

Lance dropped the guns on the table and promptly pulled the Yellow and Green paladins into a bone-crushing hug. He didn’t let go until he was sure he wouldn’t look like he had been on the verge of tears.

“Oh! Don’t forget this,” Pidge said as they pulled away, producing a small, thin pipe-looking instrument, “For close combat.”

Lance took it from her slowly and began to examine it when it suddenly telescoped from both ends into a long polearm with a glaive-like energy blade on one end.

“Whoa!” Lance exclaimed.

“Yeah,” Pidge replied, knowingly.

“You guys really went all out,” Keith chimed in, “I gotta say I’m a little jealous.”

Lance flashed him a playful smile before turning back to Pidge, who apparently wasn’t done with the gifts just yet.

“And to hold the entire weapons depot that you’ll practically be carrying around with you here’s this holster belt,” she said as she laid it out beside the black and grey suit.

“Holy crow, I feel like a secret agent with all these nifty gadgets,” Lance spoke, retracting the energy glaive back into its compact, little form, “I’ve always wanted to be a secret agent.”

“I guess you’ll need a codename,” Hunk suggested.

Lance rubbed his chin, “Hmm, yeah. You know I’m thinking ‘The Spectre.’ What do you think? You know cuz of the white armor.”

“How about ‘Ghost?’” Hunk suggested.

“‘Phantom,’” Pidge added.

“‘Dinglogrun!’” Snimo blurted.

Everyone turned and eyed him strangely. Even Keith, who stood beside him, gave him an inquisitive stare.

He shrugged, “In my language, it means a spirit of someone who is deceased. Isn’t that what you all were going for?”

“Why don’t we talk codenames after the mission?” Shiro suggested, “Lance, meet me in the Green Lion’s hangar. Hunk is getting us on the ground, hopefully in one piece. So suit up, that’s an order.”

Lance smiled up at him, “Yes sir!”

-

After that, Lance began to accompany the team on most missions, hitching a ride with whoever needed him the most. His presence benefitted the team greatly in battle, and his heightened bonds with each paladin made him highly adaptable when it came to team-dynamic missions.

He had even grown closer to Snimo, despite the grudge Lance still held, working well with the blue alien and even partnering with him from time to time.

He had to admit, Snimo wasn’t as bad as he first thought, he was even funny at times. It pleased Keith, who had apparently gotten close to the alien during Lance’s absence, to see the two working so well together and getting along. And if it made the Red Paladin happy, then Lance could learn to tolerate him.

There were still moments where he would shrink into himself- where his confidence would falter- where the purple hues of a Galra ship would provoke a lapse in concentration. Or a sentry would look at him with its mechanical optics and he’d feel the remnants of a memory trying to push their way to the surface before he snuffed out their artificial existence.

But with the help of his teammates, he was able to overcome, put the past in the past so to speak, and focus on the mission at hand.

At this point, Lance wasn’t sure he wanted to remember what had happened at all, he figured he was better off not knowing anyway. And Allura’s treatments must have been working to some extent, he hadn’t ‘turned’ since the first incident on the training deck. It was almost as if it hadn’t happened at all.

In fact, everything was going so well, it was inevitable the whole castle of cards would come tumbling down eventually.

It began with a solo mission with Shiro.

-

“Turn left and proceed down the hall to the double doors,” Pidge’s voice came over the commlink, “There should be a touchpad that opens them.”

Lance and Shiro skulked down the long, dimly lit corridor, taking care to keep their eyes and ears open for the droids that patrolled the halls.

Lance was on point with Shiro not far behind. With his heightened hearing and eyesight- which Keith had discovered- Lance could pick up on the slightest movement in the shadows and the faintest footsteps down the halls. He led them both down to the end of the corridor where he kept watch for Shiro as he used his Galra prosthetic to open the doors.  

As soon as they were open, and the two slipped through the door, Pidge came back over the comm link, “Alright, there are four cell blocks in total. The two in the middle are empty. Also, to your right, there seems to be another security door to one of the cell blocks.” She paused and then muttered, “I wonder why.”

“I don’t know, but it doesn’t matter right now. I’ll head that way. Lance, you take the other side,” Shiro said.

Lance nodded and then turned to head for the cell block at the furthest end.

He tried not to let the familiarity of the block get to him too much. He hadn’t been in another Galra prison since the day he was rescued from his own. In fact, this was his first prison extraction mission since his rescue.

Slowing to a walk as he entered the cell block, and seeing the familiar metal doors with the thin slots to look inside, Lance began to feel his first real sense of unease and dread since he was freed. Of course, he still didn’t remember much of anything from his time as a captive, but he remembered what the inside of those doors looked like, the image having been burned into his head.

All the more reason he was determined the free the occupants of the cells, whom Pidge had deduced from the data Lance retrieved on an earlier reconnaissance mission, had been here for quite awhile; long before even he himself was rescued.

It made him feel sickeningly guilty, and since learning that information he had poured all of his time and effort into a plan of action. His sleep had suffered even more than usual in the days leading to the mission, and Keith would often find him slumped over his desk when he would check on the brunette before turning in himself.

But it looked to be paying off. The plan had gotten them this far and was going off without a hitch.

Pidge had gotten them close enough in her cloaked lion to infiltrate the base. It had been hard to time, and the area they breached had been well away from the prison deck of the ship. Despite Pidge’s real-time direction on the mission from her mainframe back on the castleship, Lance had poured over the schematics of the vessel, committing the routes to memory.

Unlike most Galra battleships, this one was laden with heavy security. There was no going back the way they came, not with a group of numerous, potentially injured alien inmates. But there was a back door of sorts, a short corridor that lead to a port specifically designed for prisoner importation. There, the Red Lion would pick them up and be gone before the Galra even knew what hit them. Or at least that was the plan.

Lance spotted the master control panel for the cell block and stepped up to it, sending the feed from his visor directly to Pidge, “I need the code, but it’s all in Galran.”

“Stand by,” Pidge replied.

He could hear her small fingers tapping furiously on her keyboard, and then she came back, “Alright, one through five across and A through E down. I’m going to give you a letter and a number.”

“Like Battleship,” Lance noted with a crack of a smile.

“Yes, exactly like Battleship,” she agreed.

It had taken a bit longer than Lance would have liked, but he finally input the last digit of the code into the keypad and pressed the master door release. One by one the doors slid open, and Lance ushered the inmates out, making sure to sweep each cell for injured stragglers before moving on.

As the last of them spilled out into the cellblock hallway Lance moved to the front of the group and addressed them, “The name’s Lance. I’m a … I’m with Voltron and I’ll be your rescuer today.”

“Voltron? Could it really be?” said a quiet voice.

“Are you a legendary paladin?” said another.

Lance frowned, “Well… technically-”

Just before he could answer, a hair-raising howl resonated around the cell block from far off.

“-ance! I need backup!” Shiro’s harrowed voice suddenly rang through his ears and he could hear the sound of a struggle on the Black Paladins end. It sounded like he had run into some serious trouble.

“Uh…” Lance glanced over the group of aliens now under his charge, contemplating on how best to handle the situation.

He couldn’t take them with him if there was some danger they could get caught in the fray. But he also didn’t want to abandon them now that they were freed.

“Lance!” Shiro called again, more urgently this time, and the young defender snapped into action.

“Keith,” he called, opening a comm link to the Red Paladin who was waiting somewhere beyond the radar of the Galra ship for the signal to rendezvous, “I need you, buddy. I’m sending the prisoners out to the port, I need you there when they arrive.”

“Roger th- wait, what about you and Shiro? What’s going on?” Keith questioned.

“I don’t know but Shiro’s in trouble. I have to go help him and I need you to protect the prisoners,” Lance answered.

Before Keith could respond he cut off the comm link and again addressed the large group of captives, “My friend will be waiting for you in the port where you were brought in. I can’t go with you, I have to help my partner over in the other cell block.”

“It is no use,” came a strained voice from an alien with a strong resemblance to an Earth frog, “There is only one other occupant they keep on that side of the prison. But it is a fruitless effort. They cannot be saved.”

“What… what are you talking about?” Lance asked, taking in the expressions of the aliens fraught with fear and apprehension.

There was a beat of silence before the frog alien spoke again, “They used to be one of us, brought here on the same transport as Yex and Af’ok,” he said and he motioned to two very uncomfortable looking aliens, “But the Galra came for them, dragged them away accompanied by druids. And we never saw them again until…”

The frog-man swallowed hard and fell silent, seemingly unable to continue, and quickly changed the subject.

“We will escape to the intake port and meet your friend. Your teammate is in danger, you must go to them. But do not hold onto hope for the denizen that remains. They are not who they used to be. There is nothing left to save.”

Lance stared down the frog-man, wanting nothing more than for him to elaborate. But another strangled call for help from Shiro had him turning on his heel and leaving the newly freed prisoners to make their way to safety alone.

_Nothing left to save._

The phrase had sent a chill through him. It was so familiar and yet Lance couldn’t recall where he had heard it before. But he could dwell on it later, right then he had to focus on getting to Shiro as soon as possible before who- or whatever he had found could overtake him.

The connotations of the alien’s grim explanation- however short and vague- made it seem as if the prisoner that resided there was the one attacking Shiro. If that were the case, he wasn’t sure how he was going to deal with it. This hadn’t been a part of the plan and was far from anything he had speculated could go wrong.

To his horror, as he rounded the corner of the cell block and came to a halt, he saw the Black Paladin effortlessly flung through the air. His body brutally connected with the hard metal of a cell door, and he slumped to the ground.

“Shiro!” Lance called, forcing his legs to move again.

Shiro’s assailant looked up as Lance approached, and he once again stopped in his tracks. The alien was humanoid, with long arms and legs and a scaled carapace that covered most of their body, disappearing under the purple prison rags they wore.

But what really stood out to Lance- what made his blood run cold and freeze solid in his veins- were the four glowing purple eyes that stared at him from under the ridge of their brow.

The alien shrieked in a way Lance wasn’t sure it’s species was supposed to and charged him, crouching down and bounding towards him on all fours like a beast.

Lance stood frozen in place, too stunned to move or speak or even yell. He heard Shiro shout his name, but it was too late to snap him out of his frightened daze. The alien tackled him to the ground and began to claw at his helmet. It was only then that Lance regained control over himself and began to fight back.

Unfortunately, there wasn’t much he could do, save for fending off the alien’s ungainly limbs. The alien was incredibly strong, likely a result of whatever had to been done to them by the Galra as the frog-man had said. Lance struggled to push them off, all while avoiding damage from their flailing hands. Still, the alien managed to land a blow to his helmet, cracking his visor and partially obstructing his vision.

In a fit of impatient anger, Lance finally utilized his legs and kicked the prisoner off of him. The alien seemed momentarily stunned, which gave Lance the chance to scramble to his feet.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Shiro picking himself up off the floor, clutching at his left arm that hung limply at his side. It looked to be a tremendous effort for him to even be standing, using the wall to hold himself up as he made his way towards Lance and the prisoner.

Suddenly an alarm screamed around the cell block, and likely the entire ship. All the lights of the cell block were shut off, save for the flashing alarm lights that bathed the hallway in pulsing red hues.

Lance looked again to the Black Paladin, who appeared to be gearing up for an attack. His arm glowed, illuminating the area around him as he prepared to push himself off the wall and take the prisoner by surprise.

“No, Shiro!” Lance called out.

The alien looked behind them and, upon seeing Shiro’s glowing arm, turned fully and prepared to leap into an assault. But Lance sprang forward, grabbing the alien around the middle in a futile attempt to hold them back. He knew the prisoner would break free of his hold, but it would take their attention off the Black Paladin, if only for a moment, thus giving him a chance to get away.

“Go, Shiro!” Lance yelled as he grappled with the alien, using all his strength the keep them in place.

Shiro deadpanned, “Lance I-”

“Keith needs your help more than I do. I’ll catch up. Go!” he shouted.

For a moment Shiro looked like he was going to argue, and possibly reprimand Lance for breaking rank. But he surprised the former paladin when he only nodded and staggered towards the back corridor, disappearing into the darkness.

And not a moment too soon. As soon as the glow of Shiro’s hand was out of sight, the prisoner broke out of Lance’s hold with an angry growl, then turned around and backhanded him.

The impact of their hand broke away some shards from his already cracked visor and sent him stumbling into the back wall. The alien followed and pinned him against the surface, lifting him off the ground with both hands around his throat.

Lance’s hands pawed at the alien’s tight grip on his neck, gasping for air. The alien only sneered at him and tightened their grip, staring up at him with carnal, wide eyes.

_Not who they used to be. Nothing left to save._

This… thing had been a person once. A being with thoughts and feelings and aspirations and a home and a family and friends. Before the Galra they were probably happy and good and kind; now they were only a shell of feral rage. A monster manufactured by the Empire.

Lance tried not to think too much as he reached behind himself and gripped one the pistols in his holster. He tried not to think about the way their eyes might have looked if they weren’t washed out by the glow of tainted quintessence. He tried not to think about the fear they held, the pure terror they must have felt just before…

As he raised the gun, he tried not to think about the poor soul who used to inhabit this being. The one who was probably snatched from their homeworld as it burned at the hands of the Galra.

An innocent who didn’t ask for this, who suffered needlessly, and as a result, couldn’t be saved.

Lance closed his eyes tight, telling himself there was no other way, and fired.

-

“Pidge, have you heard from Lance or Shiro?” Keith asked.

The sentries were crowding him, backing him up against the front leg of his lion where the prisoners were hidden in her hull. Their laser-fire bombarded his shield relentlessly, leaving no room for a counter-attack. He was outnumbered, outgunned and on the defensive, and he didn’t know how much longer he could keep it up.

“No, not yet, Keith,” Pidge answered.

Her voice held an uncharacteristically nervous edge to it. He had always thought of the Green Paladin as logical and fearless under pressure and had even looked to her as a model of determination on occasion. And while it was reasonable that they were all on edge now that the plan had gone awry, something about the slight waver in her voice left a sour feeling in his gut.

“Well try again,” he demanded, “I can’t keep this up forever.”

The sentries were starting to fan out and fire at him from all angles. He’d have to do something, and soon. His shield was far too narrow to deflect every bolt, and he’d be gunned down in a few short moments if he didn’t act fast.

Pidge sighed exasperatedly, “I’m trying my best, Keith!”

“Well, so am I,” Keith barked, “I’m about to be overtaken. I can’t stay here!”

There was a moment of silence on the line, and then Pidge’s voice cracked as she spoke, “Keith, I hate to say this, but it’s probably best to get in Red and take off.”

“What?” Keith grunted as the laser bolts pounded his shield, “No! I’m not leaving without Lance and Shiro!”

“I don’t like it either, but you said it yourself before. You’re putting the lives of a few people over the lives of the prisoners we just liberated. I can see more troops headed your way and you’ll be overrun for sure. You need to get out of there,” she explained.

Keith grit his teeth, frustration and anger bubbling to the surface and threatening to explode. She was right, he knew she was. His best course of action was to take the prisoners and go. Complete the mission. It’s why they were there in the first place.

But he couldn’t just abandon Shiro and Lance. He couldn’t ditch them, in a high-security Galra ship of all places, and leave them to their fate.

Both had suffered enough, and come away with less of themselves than they’d gone in. He couldn’t let that happen again.

He should have gone with them, he should have suggested someone else make the rendezvous and insisted on teaming up with them. He should have rushed in and met them, he should have talked Lance out of this, he should have-

The sound of crunching metal brought him back to reality, and he saw Shiro ripping into the mechanized Galran sentries, catching them off-guard. One by one they fell by his hand, leaving piles of mangled scrap metal in his wake as he powered through the small troop that had Keith surrounded.

“Shiro,” Keith said, breathing a sigh of relief as the Black Paladin finished off the last drone. Then he looked around, and immediately the worry he had ridden himself of flooded back into him all at once, “Where’s Lance?”

“I’m alright, guys,” Lance’s voice finally came over the comm before Shiro could answer, “But I’m gonna be a little late.”

“Late?” Keith exclaimed, “Why aren’t you with Shiro? Where are you?”

“Guys, I hate to keep being the bearer of bad news, but you’ve got troops incoming and I know the two of you think highly of yourselves, but there’s just too many, even for you,” Pidge informed.

“Lance isn’t here yet!” Keith argued, “Lance, where are you?”

“Go on without me, I’ll be alright,” Lance answered in a lackadaisical tone.

At that Keith finally exploded, “Are you out of your mind? We’re not leaving without you! Where are you? I’m coming to get you!”

A hand on the back of his bevor stopped him from running off, and he turned and fixed Shiro with a fiery glare.

“Pidge is right, Keith. We have to go now,” Shiro said.

“You can’t be serious! Lance is still in there we can’t just leave him!” the Red Paladin shouted as he smacked Shiro’s hand off of him. He immediately regretted it when he saw how he winced, and only now noticed the way he stood slightly slumped over.

“Keith, buddy, I’ll be alright. I’ll figure something out. But you have to go. Get the prisoners out before it’s too late,” Lance came again.

“Like hell-”

Keith’s indignant shouting was cut off as the port was suddenly flooded with more sentries and drones than the two of them could possibly handle. Almost immediately they started to fire on the paladins, and even with Shiro’s added presence and shield, it wasn’t enough.

“Keith, we have to go!” Shiro ordered, flinching as the heavy fire pummeled his shield, panting as he struggled to keep his arm up.

Keith wanted to argue, he wanted to yell at Shiro for even suggesting such a heinous act. But under the barrage of laser-fire, Shiro’s injuries, and the threat of failing the mission they- and especially Lance- worked so hard to complete, he knew now wasn’t the time. So he said nothing and stormed up the ramp into Red’s cockpit to prepare for lift-off.

-

“Are they gone?” Lance asked as he watched the progress bar on the monitor.

“The Red Lion is pulling away from the port now,” Pidge answered on her end.

Lance smiled, “Good. Hopefully I won’t be too far behind. That is if someone would hurry up the process a little.”

“This is a pretty big data file, Lance. It’s going to take a little while. I can’t do anything about it. Maybe if the plan hadn’t gone bottoms-up  you wouldn’t still be there right now!” Pidge spat. Then she took a deep breath and backtracked, “I’m sorry, alright? I’m just a little anxious. I feel bad for not telling Shiro about this and even worse for telling them to leave you behind.”

“It’s alright, Pidge. I wouldn’t be doing this if I didn’t want to. I want this just as bad as you do. You know I had to plead my case to Shiro just to get here. He would never have let us do this. It was too far out of the way and too risky,” Lance explained calmly.

“Which is why I’m starting to think we shouldn’t have done this in the first place,” Pidge confessed, “What if something happens to you? What if you get caught again? Lance… I couldn’t live with myself if-”

“Relax, Pidge, I’ll be fine. You’ll have this data downloaded in no time, I’ll pop the chip and be on my merry way. With the information on this bad boy you can finally find your brother, and we can liberate so many people,” he assured her.

“Is that so?”

Lance whirled at the sudden voice behind him, turning away from the terminal to find he was no longer alone in the room.

A Galra, decked in commander’s armor, stood in front of the only exit and stared him down with her menacing yellow eyes. She grinned at his shocked expression. How Lance hadn’t heard her come in was unnerving and Lance felt a little like a cornered rabbit.

“So, you’re the former Blue Paladin, the one we had captured. I see your friends finally came for you,” she drawled in a very condescending manner as she slowly stepped closer.

“H-How do you know who I am?” Lance stammered.

“Lance? What’s going on? Is someone there with you?” he heard Pidge inquire.

“I make it my business to know who you are. I am Xiefa, It’s my job to bring back Imperial defectors. And since you have yet to complete the mission assigned to you, it’s time to bring you back in,” she hissed.

Lance’s heart beat wildly in his chest. He tried to take a step back as she continued forward, but the terminal prevented him from any sort of escape.

She was big. Lance could tell she packed a lot of muscle underneath her armor. And she still stood between him and his only exit.

Not to mention that if he could even make it to the door, he still had almost the entire width of the Galra ship to traverse before he made it to any sort of port or hangar where he might steal a transport. And the already high-security ship was bound to be on lockdown by now.

He was trapped.

Alone.

With no way out.

Perhaps this had been foolhardy of him.

He muted the comm link to Pidge before speaking to the Galra, “I don’t know what you’re talking about! I’m not a defector of your dumb Empire, I’m a Paladin of Voltron!”

“Oh,” she cooed, “Am I to take it then that I was seeing things when I saw all five Lions form Voltron while you were captive?”

“I-” Lance tried to argue, pressing himself as far up against the terminal as possible.

“Not to mention your armor is completely white and unmarked,” she mocked, “You aren’t a Paladin you’re an accessory.”

Not that he’d show it, but that hurt more than he’d like to admit. Even if it did come from some vile Galra whose only intention was to play mind games with him.

“I see you met your kin. I came across their still-smoking husk outside of their cell,” she spoke smoothly, as if they were having a casual conversation over coffee.

Lance’s brows furrowed, “Kin?”

“In terms of undergoing the same… procedure per-se. Unsuccessful, though. The poor wretch came out feral. Unprogrammable. Most are, unfortunately. They do, however, provide some quality entertainment in the Vale. Almost as much as you,” she said snidely.

“I… I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Lance insisted.

Xiefa feigned a pitying expression, “You really don’t remember, do you?”

Lance said nothing.

“Well, at least someone did their job correctly. Tell me, do you think it was just coincidence that your friends were able to ‘rescue’ you with little-to-no opposition?” she asked, suddenly changing the subject.

Lance blinked. They had told him that it had been uncannily easy, that they had been in and out with hardly a scratch sustained. At the time it seemed like pure luck. Everyone, including him, was just so happy he was home that they didn’t think much more of it.

His heart sank into his stomach as he realized what she was implying. It had been too good to be true, too lucky to be chance. He had been meant to be rescued. It was their plan all along.

“We gave you ample time to complete the objective, but you must be far stronger than you appear to have resisted for so long,” she prattled, drawing closer to him in a cat-like, prowling fashion. Then she smiled wide, showing off her razor sharp teeth, “No matter. I’m sure the druids can fix that. And The Warden will be so pleased to have back his prized Hunter.”

“It’s finished! Lance, get it and go!” he heard Pidge yell.

Lance wasted no time in reaching back and ejecting the data card from the computer terminal and shoving it into one of the pouches on his belt. Then he dropped into a crouch and swiftly slipped through Xiefa’s legs, making a beeline for the door and barreling out into the corridor.

Xeifa growled and turned around to give chase, but Lance’s long legs and agile form made him a relatively slippery target.

If he could make it to a hangar he would be alright. He already knew where to go, all he had to do was outrun her, and the backup she most likely already called on.

So he ran, and he prayed to the stars that there was a ship waiting for him to steal so he could escape.

-

Keith fidgeted, pacing back and forth impatiently in the hangar. He glowered out into the empty space beyond the hangar, separated by the magnetic force field that kept them all from being flung out into the void, waiting for any sign of Lance to come emerging through the still-open wormhole.

Shiro had already been taken to the infirmary by Coran, of that, Keith made sure. And Allura was up on the bridge monitoring the wormhole, making sure nothing came through that wasn’t welcome. That left the rest of the paladins to tend to the group of aliens.

“Keith,” Snimo said as he came to stand beside the Red Paladin. He and Hunk had just gotten back from a mission as well, “Have faith. He’ll be alright.”

“Why would he do this? What was so important that he needed to stay behind? We had the prisoners, the mission was complete,” Keith raved, gesturing wildly with his arms.

From her spot behind him Pidge shifted nervously, wracked with guilt and anxiety. She had heard him on his end talking to someone, and then everything went quiet. She suspected he had muted her, as the link was still connected. But that didn’t negate any of her worries for his well-being.

“I’m sure it was for a good reason,” Snimo assured.

“If it was such a good reason why couldn’t he just tell us? Why all the cloak and dagger?” Keith fumed.

“Well, you can ask him when he gets back,” Snimo suggested with an encouraging smile.

Keith tried to settle down, to rest his nerves, but it wasn’t possible. Not with Lance out there, probably still on that Galra ship, maybe even captured for all anyone knew. And that thought alone sent him into a frenzy.

“That’s it! I’m taking Red and I’m going back for him!” he declared, turning on his heel and storming towards his lion.

“Wait, look!” Pidge shouted, pointing out towards the wormhole.

Everybody stopped to watch as a small Galran craft appeared from the warped space. As it came closer Allura closed the wormhole and it slowed as it approached the castleship, dropping its landing gear as it entered the hangar.

“It’s Lance!” Hunk exclaimed with an enthusiastic punch in the air.

The brunette climbed out of the vessel and any relief Keith had felt left him in droves as he noticed how feebly he was moving, along with the alarming fracture on his visor.

“Lance!” Keith called, jogging up to the boy as he carefully removed his helmet.

A few shards of plexiglass fell to the floor and Keith could see that Lance’s face was bloodied from the shrapnel.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yeah... I’m fine,” Lance answered grimly.

There was a collective gasp from the group of aliens and everyone turned to look at them as they gawked at Lance with horrified expressions.

“What’s… uh… what’s wrong?” Hunk asked, looking between them and Lance.

“It’s the Hunter.”

“He’s here to kill us!”

“We were fooled!”

Hunk frowned, "That's Lance. He's our... uh... White Paladin."

“He’s a Galran assassin!”

“Please protect us!”

The air was thick with an obscure tension as the aliens cowered at the sight of Lance. Everyone looked to him for some kind of explanation, but he only looked away, and hobbled off with his tail between his legs, sulking like a scolded dog.

With Lance's exit from the hangar, the aliens finally seemed to relax and the tension slowly eased away. Keith turned back to the group and was about to ask about what just happened when Pidge beat him to it. 

"What was that about?" she exploded, taking her two other teammates by surprise, "He just saved your life- all of you!"

"I'm sorry, Voltron," the from alien spoke up, "Whoever your... friend once was... he is no longer. You have been deceived."

There was a pregnant silence in which every paladin shared ghastly looks with one another before the alien spoke again.

"We would request that wherever it is you plan to take us, you do it quickly. We thank you for everything you've done for us, Voltron, but we are not safe here."

Keith was already halfway out the door as the alien finished, jogging up to Lance as he hobbled down the hallway, seemingly headed towards the living quarters.

“Lance, wait,” Keith called, catching up to him outside in the hall.

Lance stopped in his tracks and reluctantly turned to the Red Paladin. Even under the blood and the lesions and the swollen skin, he could clearly see the dejection in Lance’s expression. But rather than pushing the issue, his wounds needed tending to, and maybe he would open up on his own. 

“These look bad,” He said, reaching up towards his face gingerly, “We need to get you into a healing pod.”

“No!” Lance snapped, slapping Keith’s hand away furiously. Keith blinked, confused and a little hurt at Lance’s response.

“Lance, they need to be treated. Please just let me take you to the infirmary and-”

“I said no, Keith!” Lance shouted. He balled his fists and glared at the Red Paladin, “I don’t want to be frozen in some glass case and put on display for everyone to gawk at! I just…”

The brunette deflated at the startled look on Keith's face, some of his anger seeping away as his expression shifted from affronted to melancholy.

“I just want to be alone,” he spoke quietly. And with that, he turned and left the Red Paladin alone in the hall, watching as he continued on by himself.


	7. Alone

“You don’t look as excited as I thought you’d be to see your teammates again,” The Warden taunted as he circled Lance.

Lance glared up at him with as much hatred and contempt as he could muster. His limbs may have been shackled but if looks alone could kill, the Galra would have been long dead. The Warden only chuckled at him with a deep, amused growl.

“Now, don’t look at me that way, Jagren. Consider it a privilege,” he spoke smoothly, “I’m allowing you to see them one last time after all. Besides, would you rather they die at the hands of faceless drones?”

Lance tried to take a step back as the Galra drew near, almost falling over as the energy links on his ankles were pulled taught.

The Warden growled out another throaty chuckle, “You will be doing them such a great honor.”

Lance turned away. Instinctively he tried to clench his jaw shut, but the metal clamp to keep him from drowning himself in his own blood held his mouth open, achingly so. Tears welled up in his eyes and slipped down his cheeks and The Warden tsked at him. 

“Little Jagren, you wound me with your tears,” he said, feigning pity. “You should be proud. You will return a hero of the Empire. I have made you into a great weapon that commands respect. I have given you a purpose.”

He gripped Lance by the face and yanked it back towards him. All the fake pity gone, replaced with a wicked smirk that never failed to unsettle his stomach, “In time, you will learn to appreciate all that we have given you, and serve the Empire as your predecessor could not.”

Lance growled around the metal clamp and indignantly jerked his head out of the grip of the Galra’s hand, glaring daggers despite the moisture in his eyes. The Warden growled back, all amusement gone from his expression. He pulled back a hand to retaliate, preparing to backhand him across the face when the door at the far end of the room slid open and a druid appeared. 

The masked being practically floated to the Warden’s side, producing a syringe from his robes filled with a lavender liquid. Lance’s teary eyes widened in terror.

The Warden grinned as he took it, “Wonderful.”

He left no time for Lance to steel himself as the needle of the syringe was jammed deep into the side of his neck and the liquid plunged from the vile. A cry was forced painfully out of his dry throat and the feeling of the cold serum being pushed into his veins made his skin crawl. 

Then slowly the needle was pulled back out and he discarded the syringe. He motioned for the druid to leave and as he did, two sentries took his place inside the room. They flanked Lance on either side and gripped him by his biceps, holding him steady as he started to sway on his feet.

“Take him back to his cell,” The Warden ordered, “And rough him up a bit. Make it look convincing.”

They saluted their superior and then marched him out and down the cellblock. 

Lance, trying not to make things harder for himself, tried to cooperate as much as he could. But his lower extremities weren’t exactly cooperating with him, and he ended up having to be dragged the rest of the way.

Upon arriving at this cell, the sentries threw him inside carelessly. Lance landed with a grunt on the cold, merciless floor. He tried his best to crawl to the very back of his dimly lit cell as they followed him inside, looming over him with sadistic grins.

“Not so tough now, are you?” one of them stated.

“Are you scared,  _ Jagren _ ?” the other taunted.

They laughed at him as he struggled to put as much distance between them and him as he could. One of them pulled a weapon from their belt, stepped forward and brought it high above their head. Between the darkness of the cell and his vision beginning to swim, Lance couldn’t even make it out. 

He could, however, feel the explosion of white-hot pain, searing into his skin as it was brought down upon him. But before a cry could wrench itself from his parched throat, another blow could be dealt, he woke up.

-

Lance shot up in his bed with a frightened gasp. His skin was tacky with a sheen of cold sweat and his heart hammered in his chest. Wide eyes darted around the room, taking in his surroundings in the dark and recognizing his bedroom on the castleship.

His hand pawed under his robes at his back as far as he could reach. Despite the pain being still fresh in his mind, all that remained were the scars. He ran his finger along one gently as he willed his heart to slow down and tried to take back control of his staggered breathing. For a long while he just sat there in bed, slumped wearily against the wall, trying to process the contents of this newest nightmare.

Up until this point they had been vague and devoid of any pertinent information. He knew they were memories, but they never went beyond phantom flashes and feelings. Most times he usually found himself in the dense forest, running for his life from something he never quite could see. And while the new one felt as real as any of the others, this one held significance and confirmed what he feared to be true. 

That the Galra on the battleship was right after all, that he had been sent to destroy team Voltron in the name of the Empire and his rescue was only part of a ploy against them.

The overwhelming feeling of guilt spread through his body like poison in his veins, leaving him feeling vile and filthy and wrong in every sense of the word. Anxiety settled low in his stomach and it felt as if someone were twisting his intestines up like balloon animals. 

It didn’t help knowing that he had already tried to harm his friends, and if things had been different- if Keith hadn’t sent the distress signal, if Coran hadn’t come through with the sedative- he may have succeeded in destroying them. And even though nothing had changed, and he hadn’t turned again since then, the thought in the back of his mind that he still very well could seemed to take on a deeper level of fear. 

Finally, after trying to failing to calm himself down, and knowing he wasn’t getting back to sleep that night, he threw the covers off of himself and got out of bed. 

Any other time he might have gone next door to Keith’s room seeking solace in the friend he had come to trust almost arrantly. And part of him wanted so bad to go to him, to feel his grounding touch and bask in his comforting warmth. But now… now that didn’t seem like such a good idea anymore. And it hurt that much more to think that he had knowingly put him in danger for his own selfish needs.

Another wave of guilt washed over him like a cold wave of water crashing over an equally cold, rocky shore. The prisoners had been right, they saw him for what he really was: a threat. To them, to his team, to everyone.

So instead, he stripped off his clothes on the way to his bathroom and stepped into the shower, running the water as hot as his skin would bear it and trying to decide the best course of action with this new information. 

The team already had their hands full of hardships, especially when it came to him. Not only were they fighting an intergalactic war with an evil Empire in the deepest reaches of space, each person having their own set of issues and individual burdens, but now Lance was a burden on them all. Sure, it had gotten better in the weeks since his incident, but he was still a ticking time bomb, and instead of being defused he felt he was only being delayed.

It was probably the best thing to do- the right thing to do- to tell somebody what he had discovered. They deserved to know, after all, that they had a potential turncoat in their midst. Even though he suspected they knew just as well as he did that he could turn again, he didn’t think they took it as seriously. 

He and Allura were having their sessions every day, and even though he believed in her full heartedly, there was no definitive proof that it was working. He liked to believe, as did the others, that it was. But there really was no telling. And just because he hadn’t turned since beginning was likely just coincidence. 

Besides, he couldn’t keep placing his burdens on everyone else’s shoulders. It wasn’t fair for them to carry his along with their own. 

Stepping out of the shower he caught a glimpse of himself in the bathroom mirror. He stopped and stared at his reflection for a moment, examining the patchwork he did on himself the night before, then every visible scar on his body. Including the ugly handprint on his shoulder that made him grimace and curl his lip in revulsion. 

His fingers found the seam between his skin and the metal of his prosthetics and he repeatedly ran his fingers up and down his thighs. The contrasting textures of warm, smooth skin to scar tissue to cold, hard, unrelenting metal left him feeling a strange sort of longing. 

_ I’m not me _ , he thought hopelessly. When he looked back up into the eyes of his reflection they were sad and becoming glazed with repressed tears.  _ That’s not me. I’m something different entirely _ .

Back in his bedroom he quickly dried himself off, then suited up in the armor he had discarded by his bed the night before. He checked the clock. It was still an hour or so till the earliest riser, Coran, would be up. 

So he grabbed the data card off the desk that he had procured the day before and made his way quietly down to Pidge’s lab. There he traded the data card for his helmet, newly repaired by Pidge and Hunk sometime yesterday after the mission, then made his way to the bridge to wait for Coran. 

-

Keith wasn’t the least bit surprised when Lance didn’t come to his room during the night, especially after their less-than-favorable parting the day before. What  _ was _ startling though was when he made his way to the dining room for breakfast and found Lance’s seat still vacant. It wasn’t like him to sleep in late, not anymore at least. Or skip breakfast.

“Has anyone seen Lance this morning?” Keith said with a yawn as he plopped himself down beside Snimo, who had begun to fix him a plate as soon as he arrived.

“Oh yes,” Coran answered, chipper as usual, “He left earlier this morning on a retrieval mission to the planet Galshapan. He’s picking up more sensor modules for our biometric scanners.”

“That was awfully kind of him to volunteer. In the meantime we can get the refugees to Tutaarmn and help get them settled in,” Allura said before she took a sip of some kind of steaming blue liquid.

“Precisely, Princess,” Coran replied.

“That’s not like Lance,” Keith grumbled before shoveling a spoonful of what loosely resembled poached eggs into his mouth.

“Keith,” Snimo chided, side-eyeing him in surprise.

“Lance has been working very hard lately to be a productive member of the team. He’s probably trying to make up for when he couldn’t. He’s trying, Keith,” Shiro lectured a few seats down from him.

“Yeah, jeez Keith, cut him some slack,” Pidge added with a snap. 

Keith cut his eyes are her, “That’s not what I meant. You  _ know _ what I’m talking about.”

Her accusatory glare softened at the realization, as did Snimo’s beside him “Oh.” she said flatly.

“Oh? What’s oh?” Shiro asked, looking between her and Keith.

“You think it might have something to do with what happened yesterday?” Hunk asked. 

“Are you talking about the mission?” Shiro pressed.

“No,” Keith stated, “What happened after the mission.”

“I’m sorry,” Allura spoke up, “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You wouldn’t. You weren’t there,” Pidge explained, “The prisoners we rescued, they knew Lance. They recognized him when he took off his helmet.”

“That’s not surprising,” Shiro countered, “He was in Galra captivity for a long time. I’m not surprised they might have seen him before.”

Pidge opened her mouth to continue but Keith cut her off, “They called him a killer.”

A pregnant silence followed his statement. His terse tone certainly did well to shift the atmosphere around the table as everyone’s faces took on more serious, grave expressions. 

“... Why?” Shiro ventured after a few beats of silence.

Keith threw his hands in the air, “I’d tell you if I knew. They didn’t say.”

“Well, what  _ did _ they say?” Allura asked.

“They freaked as soon as they saw him,” Pidge started.

“Said he was going to kill them,” Hunk continued.

“They said he was a Galran assassin, and called him some kind of Hunter,” Snimo added.

“Have you ever heard of that, Shiro?” Pidge asked.

Everyone looked down the table at him, but Shiro only stared back just as bewildered as everyone else, “No, I can’t say that I have.”

“This is… deeply troubling,” Allura admitted, lowering her gaze in deep thought.

“Coran, what did he say before he left?” Keith asked.

Everyone’s gaze shifted back up the table, where Coran was seated beside Allura.

He stroked his mustache absentmindedly, “He asked me if there was anything that needed doing off-ship. I told him I needed some parts for the biometric scanners as they’ve been on the fritz lately. He offered to go on the spot. I showed him what they look like, gave him some GAC and told him to meet us on Tutaarmn.”

“Did you notice anything strange or off about him?” Hunk asked.

Coran frowned thoughtfully, “Only that he was already up when I got up, which was quite early. It didn’t seem very in-character of him but at the time I just appreciated the enthusiasm. I usually check our coordinates and ship status on the bridge first thing in the morning and he was already there when I walked in; suited up and ready to go.”

“He must have gotten his helmet from my lab,” Pidge noted, mostly to herself. 

“What did he even take? I don’t mean to sound rude but he doesn’t exactly have a Lion to fly,” Snimo said.

“The Galran fighter,” Keith replied crossing his arms over his chest, “The one he stole from the battleship.”

“Maybe that’s why he’s never done it before,” Pidge offered, “Because he never had a ship of his own to fly. Now that he does he’s free to go off on solo missions.”

“I don’t think there’s all there is to it,” Keith responded, “He looked so upset, he wouldn’t even let me take him to the infirmary.”

“Infirmary? Was there something wrong?” Allura interjected.

“When he got back his visor was all cracked, and the glass had cut up his face,” Hunk replied, pointing to his own face.

“Come to think of it there were some patches on his face this morning when I saw him,” Coran noted. 

Another moment of silence fell over the table. No one even touched their plates again, abandoned at the distressing topic of conversation. Keith felt a little bad bringing it up when everyone was just trying to eat, but then again when else was he supposed to? 

“Well, we won’t know anything until he get’s back. In the meantime I want to talk to the refugees before we get to Tutaarmn,” Shiro stated as he rose from his seat. 

“I’ll go with you,” Keith insisted, jumping from his own seat to follow Shiro.

The Black Paladin stopped him with a raised hand, “No. They might feel pressured. It’s best if I go alone.”

“But-”

Shiro placed a reassuring hand on Keith’s shoulder, “I know you’re worried about him, we all are. But I’m sure he’ll be perfectly fine. Lance is fully capable of handling things on his own, especially something as easy as buying a few parts.”

“Besides,” Coran announced, cleaning up the table, “You all still have morning chores to do. And since Lance is gone, someone needs to do his.”

“I’ve got a lot to do already,” Pidge declared before she jumped out of her seat and ran off.

“Yeah, so do I,” Hunk said before following suit.

“The training room is gonna take me all day to clean,” said Snimo before he rushed out.

“And I’m uh… needed on the bridge,” Allura stated, and she, too, vacated the room.

“I guess that leaves you, number four,” Coran threw over his shoulder as he took the dishes to the kitchen.

Keith crossed his arms and glowered, a little miffed that he had been roped into extra chores. He wasn’t all mad, though. He  _ had _ promised Lance he’d do his chores all those weeks ago on the training deck when he’d gotten beat. 

Lance had since told him it didn’t count, since the situation took a turn for the worst, and insisted on doing his chores himself. He supposed that now at least he was finally able to keep up his end of the deal. 

-

Lance had only been on Galshapan for a few minutes when he ran into his first problem. Upon exiting the Galra fighter he had taken there, he noticed a few people looking at him and his ship strangely. Including what he assumed was the port master. 

_ Quiznack _ , he thought. He didn’t even think about the fact that flying around a stolen Galran ship in potential Galran occupied territory could have very adverse effects.  _ My first solo mission and I already ruined it. _

He held his breath as the port master eyed him and the ship, preparing himself for a swift escape if need be. 

“Ten GAC and I won’t ask any questions,” the port master spoke in a thick, garbled alien accent. 

Lance frowned. Coran had only given him enough GAC to get what was needed, making it clear not to splurge in anything else. Acquiring GAC was hard to come by and it wasn’t exactly like it grew on trees or just floated out in deep space.

Regardless, he knew it would be best not to make a scene. He could always get back in the fighter and leave, but he didn’t exactly want to show back up the castleship empty-handed. Coran probably wouldn’t let him go off by himself again, and that was the whole point. 

He reached into one of the pouches on his belt, counted out ten GAC and slapped it into the aliens eager hand. Lance then asked him about the parts he was looking for, and the alien gave him directions to a shop in the market district and he went about his business. 

Upon reaching said shop was when he ran into his second problem. Coran needed three sensor modules, but he only had enough for two. Thanks to the port master he now didn’t have enough funds to pay for all the modules he needed. He could always bring back what he had, explain what happened, but still… 

“I need one more sensor module. Please, can’t you just throw it in with the two I bought?” Lance insisted, trying his best to haggle with the shopkeeper.

“Sorry kid,” she said, “I gotta make a living.”

He couldn’t blame her, the planet didn’t exactly scream upscale. The homes and businesses looked to be cheaply made, though architecturally sound, nothing too opulent. The roads were dirt and many residents wore cloaks and cowls to protect themselves from the dust. And despite the few shady individuals, the residents seemed to be just humbly getting by. 

A child had approached him begging for food, to which he happily obliged, giving them a nutrient bar made from the castle food goo he had brought along. Even the port master, who blackmailed him for his GAC, was probably just trying to feed a family. 

“I said no return policy!”

Lance turned towards the shout to see an alien being forcibly shoved out of a shop across the street and landing in a heap on the dusty road. The shopkeeper appeared and flung something large and metallic at them, just missing their head by a few inches. 

“Please, I need a working power coupling. You said this one worked when I bought it. The mines are so far away, and my legs are not what they used to be. Please, I need to be able to get to work to feed my children,” the alien pleaded. 

“Not my problem. Guards!” The shopkeep called down the road.

Lance followed his gaze and finally noticed two Galran guards who seemed to be patrolling the market. They both held blasters, walking casually side by side. They noticed the shopkeeper flagging them down and approached him.

Lance turned his back on them, afraid they might recognize him as they came closer, pretending to be interested in something else but listening intently. 

“What is it?” one of them snapped, clearly annoyed.

“This vagrant was trying to steal from me! And slander my business!” the shopkeep barked.

“That’s not true, I-”

“Listen, we don’t wanna hear it. Just get up and get moving before we put a plasma bolt in your head!” one of them ordered. 

Lance could hear the sounds of their plasma blasters powering up. He dug his fingernails into his palms and grit his teeth and he listened. The guards would surely recognize him up so close, but he couldn’t just let them gun down an innocent in the street just because of some sleazy shopkeeper. He was there and he was able, and he had to do something. 

Fortunately, he didn’t have to, because just as he turned around, and was about to throw caution to the wind, another alien appeared and very quickly helped the first one up and away, picking up the discarded power coupling and going about their way.

His tension eased, and he breathed a sigh of relief and uncurled his fingers out of the balled up fists they had formed. 

“What’s with him?” Lance asked as he turned back to the women who had bagged up the sensor modules in a rucksack he had brought along.

“That’s Mumbrak. He’s a vile offworlder. His shop has some of the rarer parts people need around here. His prices are astronomical and he scams most folks, as you can see,” she explained. 

“How is he allowed to operate like that?” Lance pressed. 

“With all the money he rakes in he pays off the guards. They turn the other way and everyone suffers. He’s one of the only people that can import rare parts as not many of us can afford ships to do so. And I’ve heard he even pays the port hands to seize any rare imports from other ships, making sure to eliminate any competition.”

“Hm,” Lance hummed thoughtfully, looking back over his shoulder. 

The guards were already making their way back up the street, leaving Mumbrak, who jauntily strutted back inside his establishment. Alone. 

“I’m terribly sorry about the sensor module, dear. Is there anything else I can get you?” she asked. 

“Yes, actually,” he said, reaching into his pouch and producing a few more GAC, “I’m going to need one of those sweet cloaks.”

Intimidating Mumbrak turned out to be a lot easier than he originally thought. Without the guards to have his back, alone in the back of his shop, looking down the barrel of a plasma pistol trained right between his eyes, the shady shopkeeper turned into a sniveling mess. 

“Please, take whatever you want, just don’t hurt me,” he wailed.

Lance rolled his eyes, “I need a sensor module for a biometric scanner,” he said, trying to speak clearly through the cowl over his mouth. 

“Th-They’re right over here,” Mumbrak stammered, pointing to a box on a shelf. 

Lance, with his gun still pointed at the shopkeep, walked over and rummaged through the box, picking out a sensor module that looked to be in the best condition. He slipped it into his rucksack and turned back towards the cowering alien.

“Now where are your power couplings?” he then demanded.

The alien pointed and Lance helped himself, again choosing based on how unworn they looked. Once he had chosen and secured the part inside his sack, he then, once again, returned to the shopkeeper and pressed his pistol right between his eyes threateningly.

“I’m going to let you live, but if you call the guards on me, I won’t hesitate to come back and take your life,” he sneered, surprising himself at just how convincingly scary he sounded.

“Yes, Yes, you have my word! Just don’t kill me!” he whimpered. 

Lance, content that he had scared the man enough, then backed away from him and out into the front room of the store. He even managed to swipe five hundred GAC from the till before leaving the shop for good. Just in case. 

If it were anyone else he wouldn’t even have robbed them in the first place, but he could justify stealing from someone who steals from others.

After asking around about the alien from earlier, Lance was directed to a small ramshackle house on the other side of town. There, he delivered the power coupling to a very surprised and grateful looking alien, the one that had helped the other out of the street earlier. They turned and called to the other inside the house, but when they looked back around to thank him, Lance was gone. 

He had spent enough time on Galshapan already. A lot longer than he intended. His teammates were probably noticing his extended absence by now, and he didn’t trust that shopkeeper not to nark on him. 

And lo and behold, when he made his way back to port, making sure to avoid main thoroughfares and stay in the shadows, there was a unit of Galran guards posted at the entrance that weren’t there before. They were all armed and seemingly waiting for him, and he cursed himself for not thinking his actions through. 

The port was walled from the rest of the city, and even though they were high, with his legs Lance could easily scale them. But the guards were unyielding, checking each and every person that went in or out, watching everyone and everything with intense scrutiny. There was no way he could manage that without being seen. Not to mention there were so many people in the streets that if they were to fire on him they might hit someone else. 

He could use a distraction right about now, something just large enough to get the attention of the guards while he jumped the wall. His eyes darted around, putting the pieces of a plan together when suddenly a tug on his cloak interrupted his thoughts.

Lance whirled around and looked down to see the small alien child that had solicited him for food from before smiling sweetly up at him. His brow furrowed, wondering how exactly the little girl found him, and he was about to ask before she cut him off.

“You need to get past the guards,” she spoke, pointing to the port gate.

It was more of a statement than a question and Lance nodded without a word.

“You helped me,” she said, “Now I help you.” 

Before he could even ask her to elaborate the little child was already running down to the other end of the alleyway where she was joined by a few more younglings. Lance watched as they took off down the street and disappeared from view, wondering just what the little alien and her friends were up to.

He didn’t have to wonder for too long as he heard a commotion followed by shouts coming from the direction they had ran off. 

Lance turned to see the people by the port rushing towards the sound of whatever chaos was ensuing, the noise growing louder and louder as everyone began shouting at once. Eventually, the troop of guards by the gate abandoned their post and pushed their way into the crowd to investigate, giving Lance the chance he needed to escape.

He ran up to the wall and crouched down low, then sprang high into the air and vaulted the wall in one swift motion. Landing softly on the other side, Lance gave his surroundings a once over before taking off at a sprint for his ship.  

The way was clear, no guards in sight and Lance bee-lined it for his ship. He was almost to the ramp when the port master, a small tank of an alien, stepped into his path. His arms were outstretched, waiting to grab him. But Lance spun and sidestepped the large alien like a quarterback rushing for a touchdown and continued up the ramp into his craft.

The engines ignited, and Lance didn’t give the ship any time to warm up before he was forcing the craft off the ground and skyward. She shook a little as Lance put her into a steep incline, fleeing the planet as fast as he possibly could before anyone could give chase.

It was only when he was out of Galshapan’s atmosphere, and knew for sure he wasn’t being followed, that he finally breathed a sigh of relief. He then plotted the course to Tutaarmn, set the autopilot and slumped down into the pilot’s chair. 

-

“I thought you said Lance was supposed to meet us here,” Keith fretted from his seat on the bridge.

Coran had stayed behind to monitor the airways and radar while everyone else got the refugees settled in planetside. And Keith, not really one for PR, had elected to stay behind as well. That, and his impatience for any sign of Lance on the scanners. 

“I did, yes,” Coran answered simply. 

Keith glowered, “Well where is he? The others should be done soon and-”

Just then a transmission came through, and Lance appeared on the monitor. He was wearing a hood a cowl, the later of which he pulled away from his face before speaking.

“Hey, Coran. Sorry it took so long but I have those modules you needed,” he said.

“Lance, m’boy! And not a moment too soon. Let me just open up the hangar doors-”

“Actually, Coran, I think it’s best if I stay out here. It probably wouldn’t look good to fly a Galran fighter towards the refugee settlement,” he suggested. 

Coran twirled his mustache thoughtfully, “Hm, yes, you do have a point. In that case, I’m sure everyone will be ready to depart soon and we’ll meet you out there in a few ticks.”

“Aye aye, Captain,” Lance replied before he cut the transmission. 

“Captain,” Coran repeated, “Captain Coran, that has a nice ring to it. Don’t you think, Keith?”

When he didn’t receive an answer he turned to find the Red Paladin missing from his seat, “Keith?” he tried again, searching the room but finding it empty. He then just shrugged and turned back to his console. 

Keith was already on his way to the hangar. The others would be boarding and ready for lift off shortly, and he wanted to be there waiting for Lance when he docked. 

It wasn’t that he worried about he brunette. Too much. He knew Lance was capable like Shiro said, and he could take care of himself in a pinch. But he couldn’t help but feel that something was amiss. Why would he just fly off on his own, especially after almost not returning from a mission the day before? Did something happen there? Not to mention what the refugees said about him upon his return didn’t exactly put Keith’s mind at ease. 

Shiro wouldn’t let Keith talk to them, and from what he gathered from the way the Black Paladin spoke, they didn’t tell him much of anything either. All they wanted to do was get off the castleship as quickly as possible. And if they weren’t going to say anything, then that was fine by Keith. 

Obviously, something was going on, something a lot deeper than just a name and an accusation. He was curious, yes. But more importantly, he just wanted to make sure that his friend was alright. Even if they never found out all the circumstances of his capture and captivity, all he wanted was for Lance to be alright. 

Lance’s fighter touched down in the hangar and Keith watched as he walked down the ramp wearing a hooded cloak with a rucksack slung over his shoulder. Upon seeing the Red Paladin there waiting for him, he smiled brightly, and every question Keith had wanted to ask him died on the tip of his tongue as he just smiled back. 

“Hey, Keith. Miss me?” Lance asked.

“What  _ are _ you wearing?” Keith asked, crossing his arms and eying the cloth hanging loosely off of Lance’s shoulders.

The former paladin looked down at himself and spun around once, “This look happens to be all the rage on Galshapan, Keith.”

Keith chuckled, “A tattered robe and scarf?”

“It’s more functional than it is fashionable,” Lance explained as he gripped the ends of the cloak and began flapping them, shaking out all the orange dust.

Keith laughed and waved his hand in front of his face, trying to fend off the dust that was floating towards him. Lance then pushed the hood off his head and shook out his hair, producing more, and purposefully walking towards Keith.

“Lance, stop!” Keith laughed as he took a step back. 

“Lance!” 

Both of them stopped and turned to see Hunk barreling towards them. He scooped the brunette up in his arms and spun him around as Snimo, Pidge and Shiro also joined them. 

“I missed you, man! Are you okay? Why’d you leave without telling anyone? We were worried!” Hunk blathered. 

“I’m fine, Hunk,” Lance said, and he patted the Yellow Paladin’s shoulder, signaling to him to be put down, “Coran knew I was gone. He needed some parts and I volunteered. No biggie.”

“We thought it might have had something to do… with… you know, what happened yesterday… when you came back,” Pidge explained. 

“What? No,” Lance replied, waving her off, “I just thought that now that there’s an extra ship around I can actually be of some use.” 

“Lance, do you really think you aren’t useful to-” Shiro started, but Lance was already waving him off as well.

“No, no no, I mean- you know what I mean, Shiro. Like… more useful. I just… I just wanna do what I can,” he stammered, thankful that it was impossible for him to sound like he was lying because, while it was the truth, it wasn’t the whole truth, “Anyway, ‘Mo, you heading up to the bridge? Think you could drop these off with Coran?”

Snimo blinked and took the rucksack Lance was holding out for him, “Y-Yeah, I can do that.”

“Thanks, man. I’m gonna need that bag back, by the way. I’ll catch you guys later,” he said, then he clapped Hunk on the shoulder and started off for the hangar door.

“Where are you going?” Pidge asked before he could walk out. 

“To see Allura to do the… You know, the magic stuff,” he replied, wiggling his fingers, then he continued on his way. 

Keith watched him go with his brows knitted in concern. He seemed fine, and to be genuinely telling the truth. So why did he get the feeling there was just something else lying just below the surface that he wasn’t saying? Why did he feel that Lance wasn’t as alright as he seemed? 

Shiro clapped him on the shoulder with a tender smile, pulling him out of his deep thoughts, then walked past him towards the exit. Keith sighed and fell in line behind Hunk, following his fellow paladins as everyone filed out of the hangar and went about their separate tasks.

-

“Allura?” Lance tried to steady the quiver in his voice and he hoped Allura hadn’t noticed it, and if she did, hoped she at least wouldn’t bring it up. 

It had been going on four dobashes at least, and in that time, in the still and the quiet while Allura concentrated on her magic, Lance was left alone with his thoughts. 

“Hm?” she hummed, too preoccupied with the procedure to notice the fretful tone of his voice.

He swallowed thickly before continuing, “Do… do you think this is working?” 

Her eyes blinked open and he immediately cast his gaze down into his lap. He didn’t want her to see how uncertain he was and take it the wrong way. Quite the contrary, actually. He had the utmost confidence in her. It was himself he doubted. 

“Do you think it’s not?” she asked. He could see her brows creasing in concern and he chided himself for even bringing it up. But it was too late to take it back, and now he owed her an explanation. 

“No… I mean… I-I don’t know. I can’t… feel anything. I don’t feel any different,” he clarified. 

Her fingers that had been pressed lightly to his temples on each side of his head fell slowly till her hands rested on his shoulders and he finally looked up at her.

“Lance, I told you going into this that we wouldn’t know what would happen. Just because you can’t feel it working doesn’t mean it’s not. Besides, you haven’t…” she cleared her throat and tried again, “you haven’t…” 

“I know, Allura, I know,” he said, saving her the trouble of speaking about it, “But what if it’s not working? What if I can’t be fixed? What if me not turning this whole time has only been a coincidence? What if…” his shoulders slumped and his gaze fell away from hers, “What if this is all just a waste of time?” 

Her hands lifted from his shoulders to cup his face, and he allowed her to raise it to look her in the eyes, “I would not waste my time on you,” she said.

Lance snorted a weak laugh and tried to pull away, dismissing her with a joke, “Gee, thanks-”

She held him firm and looked him dead in the eyes, “Because any time I spend on you I don’t consider wasted.”

The emotional gravity of her words took him by surprise, leaving him frozen and speechless as he stared up at her. He could feel his eyes becoming moist and swimming with unshed tears and he bit his bottom lip to keep it from trembling. 

She reached up and brushed a stray hair away from his face, smiling at him sweetly, “Lance… I will do everything within my power to help you. We all will. We all care so much for you.”

Lance smiled and nodded at her, trying to convey that he understood.

“I heard about what happened… yesterday… with the refugees. Would this have anything to do with what they said?” she asked.

He sniffled, “N-No… not exactly.”

She stroked a thumb across his cheek and tilted her head slightly, “We do not have to continue these sessions if you don’t want to, but if you do, I want you to know that I am trying my best and I need you to trust me. Do you trust me, Lance?”

He tried to scrunch up his face in a final attempt to seal the dam but it was no use, he couldn’t hold back any longer. Allura noticed and pulled him into an embrace where he finally broke down into sobs with his face pressed into her bodice.

“I do, Allura, I do,” he wailed, his voice muffled in her dress, “I trust you. All of you.”

She stroked his hair gently as he cried and clung to her, his fists bunched up in the fabric of her cape. If she cared about him staining her dress, she certainly didn’t show it. She just held him there, dragging her fingers through his hair in a soothing manner. 

There was no doubt in his mind about his trust for them. They were his friends, his team, and they had his back as much as he had their backs. To ask him if he trusted them was like asking if the leaves changed in the fall, if the flowers bloomed during springtime, if the summer sun was hot. The answer, undoubtedly, would always be yes. He trusted them with his life.

But he also knew the reverse was true, that they also trusted him with theirs, and therein lay the problem, and the reason he had to make himself scarce around them.

“Lance,” Allura said after a moment or so, after he had cried himself out but still clung to her, “Do you wish to continue the session?”

“No,” he said pulling away and wiping his nose with the backside of his hand, “No, I’m pretty tired. I think I’m just gonna go to b-  _ AHH _ !”

When he looked up at her, her face was dull and lifeless. Her eyes, usually so bright and beautiful, were dim and colorless. And there, on her neck, were four large gashes, like claw marks, marring her throat. Blood oozed down the front of her neck, staining her bodice and gown and pooling on the floor at her feet. 

Lance stood from his chair quickly, tipping it backwards into a clatter on the floor behind him and he nearly tripped over it as he tried to step back.

“Lance?” she said, sounding very much alive despite her deadened appearance and reaching out to him, “What is it? What’s wrong?” 

Lance scrubbed a hand over his face and eyes, and when he looked again, everything was normal. Her face was just as warm, her eyes were just as bright and her dress was just as fresh and clean as before. He released a shaky breath and shook his head.

“Lance?” she asked again, her voice laced with worry.

“Yeah, no, I’m… I’m alright,” he said as he picked up the chair he had knocked over, “I’m just tired. It’s been a long day.”

She frowned at his response but didn’t press any further, merely watching as he made his way towards the exit.

“Goodnight, Princess,” he said, before slipping out.

“Goodnight, Lance,” she muttered. 

Outside in the hall Lance gave a heavy sigh and slumped against her door. 

What he had seen had been horrifying. He didn’t know what to make of it, only that it scared him more than anything had in awhile. In fact, the last time he remembered being so scared was when he had seen the marks on Keith’s neck after he had turned and attacked him. 

It was a special brand of horror seeing the atrocities you had unknowingly inflicted on someone. A nasty cocktail of terror mixed with dismay, repugnance and self-loathing that was forcibly injected into his veins. He had only felt it a few times now, but it was a feeling he wouldn’t soon forget. And now it was coursing through his veins again, stealing his breath and sense of self as all he could see, even with eyes wide open, was the image of Allura with her throat slashed open and bleeding out. 

And he knew it was his fault.

He pushed himself off her door and drifted down the hall, not wanting to have his panic attack right outside her room, and made his way towards his own when a voice behind him nearly scared him out of his skin.

“Hey Lance!” Lance whirled around to see Hunk approaching him. His brows knitted in concern as he got closer, “Are you alright? You look kinda pale. Have you eaten today?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he said, waving his hand dismissively, “And yes, I had some nutrient bars on the way back from Galshapan earlier.”

Hunk eyed him for a moment more but then conceded, “Alright. Anyway, I know it’s late, but Pidge wanted me to tell you to come to her lab. She wouldn’t say what for, just that she needed to talk to you.”

“Okay, thanks Hunk. I’ll… “ he took a deep breath and released it, trying to calm his nerves, “I’ll head down there pronto.”

He made his way to move past Hunk but the boy caught him by the arm, “Lance… are you okay?”

Lance blinked at him in surprise, “Yes, Hunk… I’m fine.”

“You’d… you’d tell me if you weren’t, right? If something happened?” Hunk continued, his eyes piercing into Lance’s with a sincerity that sunk Lance’s heart into the darkest depths of self-reproach.

He swallowed thickly, “Y-Yeah, man. Absolutely.”

“Good,” Hunk huffed, letting him go slowly, “I just wanted to make sure. I know you’re feeling better lately and everything, but I still worry about you sometimes.”

Lance laughed, albeit a bit nervously, “I appreciate the concern, man, but you don’t have to worry about me. I’m fine. Really.” 

Hunk eyes him for another moment longer, then nodded with a smile, “Alright. But I mean it, Lance. If need me I’m here.”

Lance nodded, “Yeah.. Yeah, I know man.”

“Good,” Hunk said, then gave him a light smack on the arm, “Anyway, I’m going to bed. Don’t stay up too late with Pidge, got it? And make sure she gets some sleep too. She’s been on that computer all day doing who knows what and I’m sure she’ll stay up all night if you let her.”

“Yeah,” Lance replied, “Absolutely. Will do.”

Hunk smiled at him again before heading for his room for the night. Lance watched his friend disappear behind the door with a sour feeling in his gut. He knew Hunk was worried about him, and just trying to make him feel better. But in all honesty it left him feeling worse than before.

Lying to his best friend wasn’t something he’d ever have done before now. Hunk was always his go-to when it came to comfort or advice. And Hunk never minded it, encouraging him even, like just then, to come to him if need be. And it felt wrong to betray his trust like that, to lie to his best friend. He felt dirty and slimy, and it weighed on his mind heavily. 

As he continued on towards Pidge’s lab, the word betrayal haunted his every thought. Not only was he betraying their trust by just being here among them and putting them all in danger, but every lie he told them just piled another level of deception and another level of guilt onto his already shamed being.

What happened with Allura already had him in a daze. He couldn’t unsee that image of her- couldn’t scrub it from the back of his mind and memory. Adding his guilt over Hunk into the mix unsettled him even more, pulling him out of reality and into an unwelcome scenario where it was Hunk he saw instead. With fading, questioning eyes and blood-stained clothes, the last few letters of Lance’s name dying on the tip of his tongue along with his life force.

Absentmindedly Lance put a hand up on the wall to steady him as he walked. He was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn’t even register the chatter of two of his fellow teammates from around the corner until he had turned it and collided with one, sending them both to the floor.

The sudden jolt out of his haze of intrusive thoughts had him reeling. He immediately gripped the individual by whatever he could get his hands on and rolled over on top of them.

The haze hadn’t cleared yet, he couldn’t even register who it was that had broken his trance, only that he had been so startled by it that it must have been a threat. 

“Lance!” he heard Keith shout, “Lance!”

The next thing he knew he was being dragged up and pressed against the wall with Keith standing in front of him, a hand on his chest as if to pin him there. Snimo was lying on the floor looking every bit of a fish, with wide, shocked eyes and a gaped mouth. He had a hand pressed to his chest, which rose and fell as he panted. 

“W-What?” Lance croaked.

Keith pointed back at the blue alien, “What was that about?”

“What?” Lance asked again.

“What do you mean ‘what?’ That!” Keith snapped.

Lance put a hand on his forehead, “I… I…” 

Keith withdrew from him, and turned to help the alien to his feet, “You alright?”

“Yeah, I’m okay,” Snimo answered dusting himself off. 

Lance frowned, but then quickly, hoping neither of them would notice his unhinged state, turned it around and laughed it off.

“Oh, man, ‘Mo,” he exclaimed, stepping forward and placing a hand on Snimo’s shoulder, “I’m so sorry. You really scared me, man! I didn’t mean to… you know. You just kinda snuck up on me.”

“You?” Keith cut in sharply, “He snuck up on you? With your bat ears and your eagle sight? He snuck up on you?” 

“I just wasn’t paying attention, alright? I didn’t hear you, you caught me by surprise, okay?” he defended, “Look, ‘Mo, I’m sorry, alright?”

“Yeah, no, it’s alright, Lance. I understand,” Snimo replied with a half-smile. 

“Cool, I’ll make it up to you alright? I promise. Anyway, I gotta go. Catch you later,” Lance said, backing away from the two paladins. 

“Where are you going?” Keith inquired.

“Uh,” he stalled, drawing a blank on an excuse, still edging backwards “Allura… needs… space cake.”

“Space cake?” Keith repeated skeptically.

“Princesses, you know? Anyway, see ya!” Lance replied, then immediately bolted before Keith could even open his mouth to call him out on his lame excuse. 

Fortunately, Pidge helped to take his mind off the situation as soon as he arrived.

“I’ve spent all day deciphering the encryption on this data. I’m only halfway through with it, but this is what I have so far,” she explained. 

She brought up a map of the local quadrant and pointed out a binary solar system to him, “This system is just on the edge of Empire territory. Now, I don’t know what they’re doing on the other planets but this one, Oucury IV, is almost completely uninhabited.”

“Almost?” Lance questioned with a quirked eyebrow. 

“Almost,” she repeated, “It’s only inhabitants are the Galra who occupy this base near its equator. It’s not a military installation, it seems to be specifically for telecommunications. And from what I’ve gathered from the data you retrieved, every message the Galra make or receive in this quadrant passes through this communications center. So…”

“So… I get in there, do some sneaky deaky espionage, plant some devices I’m sure you’ve made for just the occasion and, boom, we got a listening post right in their own base.” 

“Exactly. With a pair of ears inside this quadrant’s communications hub we can basically track every move they make,” she said with a victorious smirk. 

“Awesome. Give me the deets and the devices and I’ll leave first thing in the morning,” Lance said. 

“I’m going with you,” came a voice, and they both looked to find the Red Paladin waking towards them.

“Wh-What?” Lance stammered, wondering just how much of that conversation Keith had heard.

“You heard me,” Keith said, crossing his arms as he came to stand in front of Lance, “I’m going with you. Does Shiro know about any of this?”

Lance and Pidge shared sheepish looks.

“Well, actually…” Pidge started to say, twiddling her thumbs, “he doesn’t… exactly… know I have any of this information.”

“Why not? If it can help us get the drop on the Galra don’t you think it’s worth mentioning to everyone?” Keith pressed, “How did you even get this information, anyway?”

Pidge looked to Lance expectantly and he sighed and leaned against her desk, “We were going to tell everyone-”

“Eventually,” Pidge cut in.

“Right, eventually,” Lance agreed, “But it was just too soon after I got it. And we wanted to wait at least until she could finish deciphering it.” 

“What’s ‘it’?” Keith asked with a shake of his head.

“This,” Pidge said as she ejected the data chip and held it up for him to see.

“When did… wait,” Keith narrowed his eyes at Lance and hissed, “Are you telling me this is what you almost didn’t make it off that Galra battleship for? Why didn’t you say anything?”

“It was too dangerous, Shiro would never have let me do it. He thought I was still fighting that… thing that attacked him. He would have ordered me back if I told him what I was planning on doing. It wasn’t essential, but we’re better off now that we have it,” Lance explained calmly, hoping that his even tone would help to mitigate Keith’s growing anger. 

“You almost didn’t come back!” Keith barked.

“I did come back,” Lance replied coolly.

“Yeah, all busted up!”

“It was important-”

“ _ You’re _ important!” Keith retorted, jabbing a finger into Lance’s chest. 

Lance stared down at him wide-eyed, taken aback by the amount of raw emotion in his voice. He even thought he saw moisture beginning to form in the corners of his eyes before he placed his hand over them in a vexed manner.

From somewhere in his peripheral vision he saw Pidge hang her head and fiddle with the hem of her shorts, clearly uncomfortable.

“Keith,” Lance started calmly, reaching up to grip him gently by the arms. 

“I’m still going with you,” Keith snapped, uncovering his face and glaring at him again.

Lance shook his head, “Keith, no.”

“What are you trying to prove by going off by yourself?” Keith snarled, gesturing wildly with his hands and causing Lance to let go on his arms. 

The former paladin raised his hands defensively, “Nothing, Keith-”

“Then what are you hiding? What  _ else _ are you hiding?” The Red Paladin continued to rant.

“I’m not hiding anything else, Keith-”

“I don’t understand.”

“Keith-”

“Give me one good reason why you need to go alone!” Keith demanded.

“Because I’m better off alone!” Lance retaliated.

Keith gaped at him, wide-eyed and looking not unlike a kicked puppy. But then his expression hardened again, and he leered even more fiercely at Lance than before.

“Fine,” he said, throwing up his hands as he turned on his heel and marched away, “Whatever.”

Lance watched him go till the door slid shut behind him, then he turned to Pidge with an exasperated sigh, “Can you have everything ready for me by morning?”

“Yeah,” she said quietly.

“Thanks, P,” he said, then he too began to walk away.

“Lance,” he heard Pidge say.

“Hm?” he said, turning back to her.

“He’s just worried about you. We all are. You don’t have to do everything alone,” she spoke earnestly.

“Pidge… it… it really is better if I’m alone. For everyone,” he said, then he turned and walked out, heading for his room to get some sleep before the mission.

-

That night Lance found himself back in the forest. It wasn’t surprising, most of his nightmares usually started off that way. The forest was something he had come to expect when he fell asleep. And after the initial horror of it, it gradually upset him less and less.

In his dreams, he could always feel the terror, the fear of being pursued and slain by an unseen enemy that drove his legs to propel him far from danger. The need to run and hide was always overwhelming. The sense of urgency he usually felt was always at the forefront of his mind in this nightmare scenario. 

Only this time, unlike his usual nightmare, it felt different. He felt different.

There was no terror. For the first time he didn’t feel afraid in the forest. The silence did less to unnerve him. The trees that usually loomed so ominously above him were less threatening than before. The moonlight that cut through the canopy seemed less dismal and somehow it wasn’t as dark on the forest floor as he remembered.

Everything seemed more clear and in focus now that he could see without the shroud of terror. It was calm, relaxing, and he felt uninhibited by the constraints of his usual fear.

Something rustled far off to his left and his head snapped towards it, eyes and ears alert. In every other scenario hearing something in the deathly quiet of the forest was always an ill omen, and usually had him taking off at a sprint for the cover of a large tree or lush thicket. But this time the sound excited him, thrilled him even, and upon hearing it again, he took off towards it.

His footfalls were soft despite the speed at which he rushed towards the sounds. His surroundings, though still obstacle-course in nature, were less hindering; even aiding him as he took to the thicker branches that would support his brief weight.

He felt strong and powerful, and the exertion of his body added to the overall high he was on as he pursued the origin of the noise. 

Lance could get used to this kind of nightmare. 

A blur on the forest floor caught his eye, a figure moving through the trees and underbrush with the urgency of something being hunted. He slowed his pursuit, taking care to remain as quiet as possible as he tracked the being with his eyes. 

At one point they stopped, crouching low and turned their head as they searched the immediate area. Lance watched from his perch in a tree not too far away, knowing the forest was too dark and thick for him to be seen, even though he could see them as clearly as if it were daylight. 

The being panted profusely, albeit as quietly as they could, and in their still form Lance was able to gauge just what kind of being they were.

Alien, unsurprisingly. Anything out here that was not human to Lance was alien. They were humanoid in shape with prominent, pointy cheekbones, long, tapered ears and green skin. They even had a tail with a tuft of fur at the very end, which Lance found ridiculously amusing. 

But as funny as it was to watch the alien's tail twitch tensely, flicking the tuft to and fro, it wasn’t very much fun just sitting around and watching and waiting. So rather than bring the fun to an end, Lance reached down and snapped a small branch off the thicker one he was standing on, causing the sound to echo around the forest and the alien to be fully alert. 

Lance smirked, watching as the alien became perfectly still, eyes flitting around the dense timber like a timid rabbit. The fear in their eyes was much more amusing to Lance than their ridiculous appendages, and it thrilled him to no end to know that he was the cause, and he held this power over them. 

With the stick still in hand Lance snapped it in half, again producing a sharp sound that carried to the aliens ears. This time, though, it had them bolting, and the chase was back on. 

It continued like that for some time. They ran and tried to hide, and Lance kept a reasonable distance and made just enough noise to torment his target. But as fun as it was, as thrilling and empowering as he felt, the moon’s light through the canopy shifted, and he knew his hunt was going to have to come to an end very soon. 

With a burst of speed he put himself ahead of them, then, as they got close, he let himself drop to the forest floor where they almost literally ran into him. The alien gasped aloud and their eyes widened comically at the sight of him as they came to a skidding halt. 

“I found you,” he cooed ominously. 

He then reeled back and slashed at their throat wearing some kind of clawed gauntlet, leaving large gashes in the tender flesh of their neck. After that, all he could see was the blood as it spurted from their grotesque wounds.

When he woke, the disgust with his dream-self for enjoying the depravity left him feeling more unsettled than any nightmare.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Comments are very much appreciated and help to fuel my motivation to write. Or come talk to me @tryforce on tumblr
> 
> If you enjoyed this, please consider leaving me a comment here or an ask on tumblr. I respond to everyone and nice comments encourage me to keep writing this, especially if you want more. I'm not asking for essay length in-depth analyses (although I'm not opposed to that either) but even just a short and sweet message helps to brighten my day and keep me motivated. Thank you.


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